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THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


^!Jyr^ — 


^1 


^U  I 


L  lu  ti^ 


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How  tlie  Conqueror  duals  with  Reljels. 


THE   SIEGE 
OF     NORWICH     CASTLE 

A    STORY  OF   THE  LAST  STRUGGLE 
AGAINST   THE   CONQUEROR 


BY 


M.    M.    BLAKE 


IVif/i  II hi  si  rations  hy  the  Author 


NEW   YORK 
MACMILLAN     c'l'     CO. 

1S93 


TO 


MY    FATHER 


THIS   STORY 


IS 

/ 

AFFECTIOXATEI.V 


INSCRir.Kl) 


171102-1 


CONTENTS. 


CHAP. 

I,    THE    StZEKAIX's    'XAV,' 

II.    LOVE   OR    LOYALTY, 

III.  JEST  AND  EARNEST,  .... 

IV.  HORSE,    HAWK,    .\ND    HOUNU, 
V.  NORMAN   AND   SAXON, 

VI.  THE    ]!R1I)E-ALE,  .... 

VII.  DELILAH    SHEARS   SA.MSON,   . 

VUI.  KNIGHT-ERRANT  AND  MERCENARY, 

1\'.  NORWICH,      ..... 

X.  LANFRANC,    ..... 

XI.  THE   CASTELLAN  OF  KLAUNCHEFLOUR,    ,     . 

XII.  THE   STANDARD    OF    REVOLT, 

Mil.  sr.    NICHOLAS    FOR   GUADER  ! 

XIV.  HOW    THE   CONQUEROR    DEALS    WITH    REHELS, 

XV.  'O    HKHI    AMIUTION    LOWLY    LAID!' 

XVI.  WIFE  OR  WIDOW?       .... 

XVII.  HOW    RALPH    CAME    HOME,    . 

XVIH.  UESIEGED,       ..... 

\IX.  'stone    walls    DO    NOT    A    TRISON    MAKI..' 


PAGE 
9 

25 

53 
65 

74 

91 

100 

•13 
127 

139 

14S 

160 

'73 
1S9 

206 

234 
244 


CONTENTS. 


CHAP. 
XX.    A    OUTRAN'CE, 

XXI.    THE    ORDEAL    KY    FIRE, 

XXII.    A   SUBTERRANEAN    CONEEICT, 

XXIII.    HOW   OLIVER    DIED, 

XXIV.    FAMINE, 

XXV.    BRETAGNE,    . 

XXVI.    CONCLUSION, 


PAGE 
256 

272 
299 

3'3 
327 
336 


AIT'ENDIX, 


347 


LIST    OF    ILLUSTRATIONS. 


PAGE 
HOW    THE    CONQUKROR    DEALS    WITH    REBELS,  .  .        FrOlltispicCC 

KMMA  rn/OSIilCRN    ACCEPTS    'I'HE    TASSEL-GENTLE,  .  .  62 

judith  watches  her  sleeping  spouse,  .  .  .92 

lanfkanc  jesis  wiih   1  he  con()ueror,  .     '       .  •       i3o 

wai;iheoe"s  ihmii  iation,  .  .  .  .  •       136 

iiisiiop  ODO  meets  i)e  guadek,    .....       17° 

THE   TOWER   STAIR=,  ......  IjS 

THE    RESCUE    OE    THE    EARL,  .....  I98 

E.M.Ma's    EIRST    SIGHT   OE   THE    EOE,  ....  24O 

THE    lUG    RAT    HAS    GONE    INTO    HIS    HOLE,  .  .  .  292 

A    WARREN.Ne!    a    WAKKENNE  :    EOR    WILLIAM     I  HE    NORMAN   !       .  3OO 

DE   GUADER   DONS   THE   CROSS,  .....  342 


THE 

SIEGE    OF    NORWICH    CASTLE 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE   suzerain's   'NAY.' 

It  was  towards  the  close  of  tlie  year  of  our  Lord  1073. 
As  we  now  reckon,  it  would  have  been  some  vva\'  into 
1074,  but  in  those  old  times  they  bci^an  their  tweKe- 
month  on  March  25th.  So,  notwithstanding  that  the 
daffy-down-dillies  were  pushing  their  grey-green  blades 
through  the  softening  earth,  and  that  the  partridges 
had  chosen  their  mates  for  the  season,  it  was  the  end 
of  1073,  and  just  before  Piaster. 

The  fair  Emma  Fitzosbern,  sister  and  ward  of  Roger, 
Earl  of  Hereford,  a  }-oung  damsel  of  splendid  beautw  in 
whose  h(jnour  the  chivalric  champions  of  Normandy 
and  Bretagne  were  busy  cracking  each  other's  heads, 
according  to  the  fashion  of  the  times,  had  followed  the 
example  of  the  parlridges,  and  proniiscd  her  hand  in 
marriage. 

The  mate  she   had   chosen  was   splcntlid    and    brave, 

and,  after  the   king,  was  equalled   in   power  and   wealth 

1) 


lo  THE  SUZERAIN'S  '  NAY: 

but  by  two  other  men  in  all  England.  Ralph  de 
Guader  or  Wader  had  received  the  earldom  of  Norfolk 
and  Suffolk,  and  the  post  of  Constable  of  Norwich  Castle, 
from  the  Conqueror,  in  return  for  his  services  at  Hastings 
and  his  prowess  in  beating  back  the  Danes  from  the 
eastern  coast. 

His  father  and  grandfather  had  held  lands  in  England, 
and  he  claimed  English  blood  when  it  suited  his  pur- 
pose, being  the  only  Englishman  who  bore  the  rank  of 
earl,  save  Waltheof  Siwardsson,  Earl  of  Huntingdon, 
Northampton,  and  Northumberland  ;  but,  to  his  shame 
be  it  spoken,  he  was  also  the  only  Englishman  against 
whom  it  could  be  told  that  he  fought  on  William's  side 
at  Hastings. 

He  had  been  deprived  of  the  lands  of  his  father,  Ralph 
the  Staller,  the  chronicles  record  not  wherefore,  but  it 
might  well  be  that  the  house  of  Godwin,  when  they 
wrought  on  King  Eadward  the  Confessor,  of  sainted 
memory,  to  drive  his  Norman  favourites  from  the  land, 
included  Ralph  amongst  them  on  account  of  his  Breton 
mother,  whose  influence,  doubtless,  inclined  the  lad  to 
love  the  folks  from  over  the  sea,  and  who  would  have 
taught  him  to  speak  French  and  demean  himself  in 
French  ways,  and,  that  so,  a  very  bitter  and  personal 
feud  lay  between  him  and  Harold  Godwinsson. 

He  had  retired  to  his  mother's  estates  of  Guader  and 
Montfort,  in  Bretagne,  and  had  returned  thence  with  a 
proud  following  of  Breton  knights  and  fighting  men, 
under  William  of  Normandy's  banner,  making  the 
Norman     invasion    his    opportunity    to    win     back    his 


THE  SUZERAIN'S  '  NA  V.'  1 1 

lands  at  the   sword's   point,  and    to   gain   other    broad 
acres  with  them. 

In  1073,  he,  and  the  man  whose  brother-in-law  he 
wished  to  become,  young  Roger  Fitzosbern,  Earl  of 
Hereford,  and  Earl  Waltheof,  nephew -in -law  to  the 
king,  were  the  three  most  powerful  nobles  in  the 
country.  Their  estates  almost  met  across  England, 
and,  united  together,  they  might  have  done  much  as 
they  wished  with  the  kingdom.  The  Conqueror  by  no 
means  desired  their  closer  alliance,  as  we  shall  see. 

But  to  Ralph  de  Guader  and  Roger  of  Hereford 
nothing  seemed  more  reasonable  and  in  every  way 
satisfactory  than  the  union  of  their  houses  by  marriage. 
The  former  especially  was  wildly  eager  to  cement  their 
friendship  by  this  solid  bond,  for  the  very  good  reason 
that  he  was  deeply  in  love  with  the  beautiful  and 
high-spirited  Emma,  and  had  carried  her  favour  in  tilt 
and  tourney  with  such  determination  and  fury,  that 
champions  were  shy  of  accepting  his  challenge  when 
he  took  his  place  in  the  lists. 

A  slight  hindrance  had  marred  the  progress  of  the 
fia7icaitles.  William,  the  Conqueror  of  England,  was 
also  Duke  of  Normandy,  and  his  restless  vassals  across 
the  straits  were  apt  to  get  weary  of  his  continued 
absence  in  his  new  kingdom.  Robert  of  Flanders,  his 
ancient  enemy,  in  battle  w  ith  whom  lunma's  father,  the 
famous  William  Mtzosbern,  whom  Holingshed  calls  the 
king's  coosine,  had  lost  his  life,  was  always  ready  to 
foment  any  little  disputes  that  might  arise  amongst 
them,  and   King   Phih'j)  of   h'rance  had   now  joined   the 


12  THE  SUZERAIN'S  '  NAYJ 

troublesome  Frisian  hand  and  glove.  So  William 
thought  it  wise  to  go  in  person  to  Normandy,  to  keep 
guard  over  the  movements  of  the  twain. 

Of  course  the  marriage  could  not  take  place  until  the 
king's  consent  was  obtained,  and  messengers  had  been 
despatched  to  Normandy  by  the  two  earls,  praying  his 
consent. 

Their  return  was  more  than  due,  and  was  awaited 
with  some  anxiety,  as  Lent  was  so  near  at  hand,  during 
which,  according  to  the  Roman  Church,  no  marriage 
could  take  place.  However,  travelling  in  those  days 
was  very  different  to  what  it  is  in  ours.  The  Channel 
could  not  be  crossed  in  all  weathers  and  all  winds,  and 
it  was  supposed  that  unfavourable  breezes  detained  the 
messengers.  Not  for  a  moment  was  there  any  doubt 
that  the  answer,  when  it  did  come,  would  be  in  the 
affirmative.  Permission  had  been  asked  merely  as  a 
matter  of  form. 

Meanwhile,  every  effort  was  made  to  entertain  the 
guests  at  Hereford  Castle,  and  to  prevent  the  time  of 
their  prolonged  sojourn  from  hanging  heavy  on  their 
hands. 

In  Domesday  Book  there  figures  a  certain  Adelina,  a 
female  juggler,  as  having  received  lands  in  the  county  of 
Hants,  having  previously  enjo}-cd  fee  and  salary  from 
one  Roger,  a  Norman  earl. 

The  talents  of  this  lady  were  in  requisition,  and,  a 
heavy  downpour  of  rain  and  sleet  having  rendered  out- 
door sports  unpleasant,  a  large  company  of  knights  and 
ladies  were  watching  her  agile  movements  and  ingenious 


THE  SUZERAIN'S  ''  NA  IV  13 

deceptions  ;  shouts  and  ripples  of  laughter  testifying  to 
their  appreciation  of  her  cleverness. 

She  performed  at  one  end  of  the  great  banqueting- 
hall,  and  was  clad  in  a  scarlet  dress  made  Eastern 
fashion,  having  a  gold-broidered  jacket  of  the  shape  we 
are  accustomed  to  call  Zouave,  with  loose  trousers,  and 
slippers  turned  up  at  the  toes  ;  she  wore  a  turban  upon 
her  head,  from  beneath  which  her  long  black  hair 
streamed  unconfined  to  her  waist,  around  which  she 
wore  a  girdle  of  snake-skins;  her  bare  arms  were  covered 
with  bangles,  and  in  her  hand  she  held  a  wand  on  which 
a  child's  skull  took  the  place  of  the  Punch's  head  which 
adorns  the  staff  of  a  Polichinello. 

She  had  for  assistants  two  brown-skinned,  almond- 
eyed,  white-toothed  boys,  evidently  of  Moorish  origin, 
and  active  as  the  leopards,  whose  skins  they  wore,  had 
been  when  alive  in  their  native  jungle  ;  and  the  bowls, 
spheres,  and  other  appliances  she  used  were  marked 
with  cabalistic  signs  in  the  Arabian  alphabet.  Evidentl}-, 
whether  or  no  she  was  herself  of  Moorish  blood,  she 
had  learned  her  trade  from  the  jugglers  of  the  East, 
whose  skill  therein  still  surpasses  all  others. 

In  those  days  the  dark-skinned  races  were  identified 
with  Antichrist,  and  the  entertainment  therefore 
afforded  that  flavour  of  the  forbidden  which  seems  so 
necessary  to  the  enjoyment  of  some  folks.  A  gibbering 
monkey,  which  perched  on  her  shoulder,  and  performed 
strange  antics  at  her  bidding,  alternately  with  wild 
freaks  of  mischief  of  its  own  invention,  added  to  the  air 
o'i  diablerie  \\\\\c\\  made  the  exhibition  attractive. 


14  THE  SUZERAIN'S  'NAY: 

The  young  Earl  of  Hereford,  his  countess,  and  their 
two  little  sons,  were  foremost  among  the  spectators,  the 
earl  laughing  heartily  at  the  tricks  of  his  favourite,  and 
rewarding  her  skill  with  praise  and  largesse  when  any 
special  feat  called  forth  the  applause  of  the  guests. 

Tall  and  commanding  in  figure,  his  face,  clean-shaven 
after  the  Norman  fashion,  was  both  proud  and  weak, 
the  features  handsome,  clear-cut,  aquiline,  but  the  chin 
receding  too  greatly  to  betoken  a  strong  character. 
His  dress  was  of  the  richest,  his  tunic  of  tawny  samite, 
sewn  thickly  with  gems,  and  his  long  cloak  lined  with 
costly  furs,  his  earl's  coronet  on  his  brow. 

Beside  him  sat  his  beautiful  sister,  in  whose  honour 
all  the  guests  were  assembled  ; — like  him,  yet  showing, 
in  spite  of  all  feminine  grace  and  softness,  signs  of  that 
strength  of  will  in  which  he  was  deficient.  Her  features, 
like  his,  were  clear-cut  and  aquiline,  but  the  full  round 
chin  stood  out  boldly  from  the  white,  flawless  throat, 
unadorned  by  any  necklace  save  the  delicate  crease 
which  Nature  had  marked  on  it,  and  which  some  folks 
call  Venus'  necklace.  Her  auburn  hair  was  simply 
braided  in  two  long  plaits,  and  hung  below  her  waist, 
and  was  bound  by  a  fillet  of  goldsmiths'  work.  Her 
arched  brows  were  almost  black,  and  the  dark -blue 
eyes  beneath  them  were  full  of  gentleness  and  fire.  Her 
tightly-fitting  green  kirtle  was  rounded  at  the  base  of 
the  slender  neck  and  edged  with  drawn  lawn,  and 
showed  the  graceful  contour  of  her  young  figure  ; 
and  her  embroidered  skirt,  which  bad  been  'looted'  by 
her  noble  father  from  the  house  of   some   rich   Saxon 


THE  SUZERAIN'S  'NAY:  15 

in  his  Hastings  campaign,  bore  witness  to  the  artistic 
powers  of  the  Saxon  ladies,  and  also  to  their  industry, 
for  its  subtly  blended  hues  had  taken  years  of  labour 
to  produce,  and  such  skill  as  was  possessed  only  by  the 
women  of  their  nation. 

Standing  near  her,  with  his  hand  upon  her  chair,  was 
the  hero  of  the  occasion.  Ralph  de  Guader's  Breton 
mother  had  Southern  blood  in  her  veins,  and  he  had 
inherited  from  her  a  swart  complexion,  coal-black  hair 
which  curled  crisply  on  his  well-formed  head,  and  the 
hawk  nose  and  pointed  chin  which  is  common  in 
Brittany  now,  though  the  Bretons  of  that  day  had  for 
the  most  part  the  characteristics  of  the  red-haired,  blue- 
eyed  Celts,  who  had  left  Wales  but  a  short  time  before. 
From  his  English  father  he  had  inherited  a  pair  of  keen 
grey  eyes,  hawk-like  as  the  nose  between  them,  and 
deep  .set  under  cavernous  brows,  black,  and  somewhat 
given  to  frowning. 

His  figure  was  firmly  knit,  broad-shouldered,  but  not 
very  tall,  and  his  apparel  was  as  brave  as  that  of  his 
brother  earl,  his  tunic  being  of  ivory  silk  edged  with 
sable  and  wrought  with  gold  thread,  and  the  baldric 
blazed  with  jewels  which  supported  his  iiiisericorde,  or 
dagger  of  mercy, — a  weapon  always  worn  by  a  Norman 
noble,  and  serving  to  put  his  wounded  enemies  out 
of  misery, — whence  its  name, —  to  protect  him  from 
treachery,  and  to  carve  his  meat  and  that  of  the  lady 
he  'took  in  '  to  dinner  withal. 

The  deft  Adelina  had  swallowed  swords,  and  made 
snakes  dance  to  her  piping,  and  produced  intact  bracelets 


1 6  THE  SUZERAIN'S  ' NAY: 

which  had  seemed  to  be  utterly  crushed  to  powder 
before  the  spectators'  eyes,  and  had  danced  herself  with 
marvellous  agility  and  grace,  and,  in  short,  had  per- 
formed many  feats  which  have  been  rivalled  before  and 
since  by  jugglers  ancient  and  modern,  when  a  young 
baron  stood  forth  and  said  to  Earl  Roger, — 

'  I  have  heard,  my  lord,  that  yonder  Paynim  witch 
hath  shrewd  skill  to  read  the  stars.  I  prithee,  command 
her  that  she  may  tell  the  fates  of  those  who  list  to  know 
what  shall  befall  them.' 

Then  Adelina  turned  round  swiftly,  so  that  the 
gibbering  monkey,  which  sat  on  her  shoulder,  sprang 
down  with  a  screech. 

'  I  prithee,  Sir  Earl,'  she  cried,  '  give  me  no  such  order, 
for  the  spirits  I  summon  have  a  knack  of  telling  the 
truth,  and  there  are  fates  in  store  for  some  folks  they 
would  ill  brook  to  hear.  "  Enough  for  the  day  is  the 
evil  thereof." ' 

'  Nay,  take  not  to  quoting  Scripture,  witch  ;  it  hath  an 
awkward  sound  from  thy  graceless  lips,'  returned  the 
earl  banteringly.  '  'Tis  a  left-handed  compliment  to 
pay  to  the  valour  of  any  noble  gentleman  here,  that 
he  should  shrink  to  know  the  worst  the  devil  can  do 
to  him.  Summon  thy  spirits !  I  wager  we  will  face 
them.' 

Adelina's  brown  face  turned  yellow  as  parchment,  her 
knees  shook  together  for  fear. 

'  I  beg  thee,  spare  me,  Sir  Earl ! '  she  entreated  in  a 
low  voice. 

But  her  opposition  on!)-  raised  the  earl's  obstinacy,  of 


THE  SUZERAIN'S  ' NAY:  17 

which,  like  most  weak  people,  he  had  a  large  share,  and 
he  insisted. 

So  Adelina  gave  orders  to  her  attendant  sprites,  who 
fetched  her  a  big  box,  and  a  tripod  with  a  metal  mirror 
above  it,  and  a  brazier  hung  from  chains  like  a  censer, 
and  a  skull,  and  a  tame  raven. 

And  out  of  the  box  she  dragged  a  huge,  sluggish  snake. 
The  creature  rolled  and  writhed  upon  the  floor  in  a 
fashion  that  caused  the  ladies  to  scream  and  the  kniehts 
to  lay  hold  of  the  hilts  of  their  daggers  ;  but  after  a  while 
it  rolled  itself  in  a  ring  round  the  tripod,  with  its  tail  to 
its  head,  and  so  lay  still. 

*  Whoever  hath  courage  to  step  within  my  magic 
circle  may  learn  the  secrets  of  the  future  ! '  cried  the 
sorceress. 

But  the  young  baron  who  had  been  so  eager  to  learn 
his  fate  did  not  relish  the  conditions,  and  made  no  move. 

Ralph  de  Guader,  seeing  his  hesitation,  stepped  forward 
out  of  sheer  bravado,  without  having  any  particular  desire 
to  know  his  fate,  or  belief  in  Adelina's  power  to  tell  it, 
for  he  was  happy,  and  all  the  future  appeared  to  him 
steeped  in  ros\'  hues  of  hope. 

'  Oh,  Ralph,  deal  not  with  the  Evil  One  ! '  cried  Emma, 
laying  a  restraining  hand  on  his  arm.  'Trust  not  that 
horrible  beast,  I  pray  thee  !  ' 

Ralph  gave  some  careless  excuse,  and  Emma  accepted 
it ;  for,  to  say  truth,  her  young  head  was  full  of  fiery 
ambition,  and  her  curiosity  was  great  to  know  what 
honours  her  splendid  lover  would  win  for  her  in  the  days 
to  come.     William  of  Normandy  had  carved  a  throne 


1 8  THE  SUZERAIN'S  '  NA  V: 

with  his  sword  for  Matilda  of  Flanders  ;  who  knew  what 
Ralph  de  Guader's  good  blade  might  carve  for  her? 
Everything  seemed  possible  in  those  days. 

So  the  Earl  of  the  East  Angles  stepped  down  from 
the  dais  to  the  end  of  the  great  hall,  where  the  sorceress 
stood,  and  stepped  across  the  spotted  body  of  the  snake 
into  the  charmed  circle  it  enclosed,  bidding  Adelina 
summon  her  allies,  be  they  fair  or  foul. 

But  not  without  remonstrance  from  the  fortune-teller. 

'  Pause,  De  Guader  and  Montfort,  Earl  of  Norfolk  and 
Suffolk  !  Thy  head  is  heaped  with  honours,  and  thy 
hands  are  full  of  fat  manors,  and — best  of  all  gifts  ! — 
the  heart  of  the  fairest  lady  in  the  hall  is  openly- 
bestowed  on  thee  !  What  more  canst  thou  ask  of  the 
future?  Take  what  thou  hast,  and  go  barefoot  to  the 
chapel  and  thank  the  white  Christ  for  His  bounty  !  Stay 
thy  questioning,  lest  what  thou  hast  shall  be  reft  from 
thee  ! ' 

'  A  brave  man  defies  fortune,'  answered  De  Guader, 
tossing  back  his  dark  head  proudly. 

'  Then  if  the  prophecy  be  not  to  thy  liking,'  returned 
Adelina,  '  if  the  spirits  foretell  evil  days,  I  pray  thee 
blame  not  their  mouthpiece.'  Her  agitation  was  extreme, 
which  was  not  surprising,  as  the  fierce  nobles  of  those 
days  were  apt  to  deal  harshly  with  the  messengers  of 
unpleasing  news. 

She  chanted  a  wild  incantation,  dancing  round  the 
tripod  and  the  earl,  and  swung  her  censer  to  and  fro 
till  it  gave  forth  strange  fumes  and  clouds  of  smoke,  by 
which   her   face   and   the   earl's  were   veiled    from    the 


THE  SUZERAIN'S  '  NA  I'.'  19 

spectators.  Now  and  again  her  turbaned  head  was  seen 
through  the  vapours,  her  eyes  intently  fixed  on  her 
mirror,  but  none  could  tell  what  was  passing. 

Presently  the  earl  returned  to  the  dais  with  a  some- 
what white  face.  Emma's  eyes  were  bent  upon  him 
with  anxious  inquiry. 

'  She  has  promised  me  that  which  I  covet  most,  dear 
lady,'  whispered  De  Guader  in  answer  to  her  look  :  '  my 
bridal  with  thee  is  to  come  to  fulfilment.  I  am  to  pass 
my  life  with  thee,  and  die  with  thee,  near  the  blessed 
city  of  Jerusalem.' 

'The  Holy  Virgin  be  praised!'  answered  Emma 
devoutly  ;  '  and  pardon  thee  for  asking  the  future,  if  sin 
be  in  it.'  Then,  recognising  the  admission  she  had  made 
by  acknowledging  her  joy  in  the  prophecy,  she  blushed 
and  turned  away  from  De  Guader's  happy  eyes, 

'Aha!  sister  of  mine,  it  seems  my  sorceress  has 
pleasured  thee  with  her  prophecies,'  remarked  Earl 
Roger.  '  I  will  see  if  she  can  be  equally  gracious  to  me.' 
'Thou  hadst  best  brace  thy  nerves  for  a  shock,  man,' 
cried  De  Guader  after  him  as  he  left  the  dais.  'Those 
spirits  have  verily  a  knack  of  telling  home  truths  with- 
out mincing  matters.' 

Adelina's  agitation  increased  when  she  saw  her  master 
appearing  as  the  next  candidate.  She  trembled  from 
head  to  foot. 

'  I  prithee  spare  me  this,  Roger  Eitzosbcrn,'  she  said 
in  a  scarce  audible  voice.     But  the  earl  insisted. 

Then  followed  the  same  preliminaries  as  before, — the 
dance,    and     the    chant,    and    the    smoke-wreaths,    then 


20  THE  SUZERAIN'S  'NAY: 

the  whispered  mysteries.  But  this  time  sharp,  angry 
interjections  and  round  Norman  oaths  were  mingled 
with  the  murmurings  of  Adelina's  voice,  and  all  at  once 
the  unhappy  fortune-teller  threw  up  her  bangled  arms 
and  fell  backwards  fainting,  while  the  Earl  of  Hereford, 
with  an  angry  stamp,  broke  out  of  the  charmed  circle 
and  rushed  back  to  his  seat. 

Adelina's  neophytes  ran  forward  to  the  rescue,  for  her 
garments  had  caught  fire  from  the  censer,  and  all  was 
bustle  and  confusion.  The  huge  snake  lav  calmlv 
through  it,  however,  for,  to  say  truth,  it  was  stuffed,  and 
worked  with  wires. 

The  Countess  of  Hereford  sprang  up  to  greet  her 
lord,  and  the  two  little  boys  burst  out  a-wailing,  sore 
frightened  at  their  father's  altered  face,  while  Enima 
also  rose  to  greet  her  brother  with  terror  in  her  eyes, 
trembling  at  the  evidence  he  gave  that  evil  had  been 
foretold  him. 

But  he  soon  regained  his  calmness,  and  laughed 
as  he  saw  the  reflection  of  his  mood  in  their  agonised 
faces. 

'  Pah  !  it  is  all  nonsense  !  '  he  said,  wiping  the  sv/eat 
from  his  brow.  '  I  believe  the  witch  must  be  in  league 
with  the  devil  to  have  so  wrought  on  me.' 

He  looked  round  the  hall,  and  gave  another  forced 
laugh. 

'  I  am  to  lose  all  my  lands,  to  be  despoiled  of  my 
earldom,  and  die  in  prison,  she  says.' 

The  ladies  exclaimed  in  horror,  and  the  men  laughed 
derisively;  but  Earl  Ralph's  jester,  Grillonne,  whispered 


THE  SUZERAIN'S  '  nay:  21 

sagely  to  his  neighbour,  '  Good  nuncle !  when  they 
promised  me  a  swishing  at  school,  I  made  effort  to 
keep  it  to  myself.     But  I  am  a  fool' 

No  one  seemed  inclined  to  consult  such  a  fortune- 
teller for  his  own  part,  and  the  Earl  of  Hereford  ordered 
a  Welsh  minstrel,  who  had  been  sent  him  in  compliment 
by  one  of  the  Welsh  chiefs  on  the  Marches,  whom 
Hereford  had  lately  beaten  and  made  terms  with,  to 
regale  the  company  with  some  of  his  ballads. 

At  this  juncture  a  great  shout  was  heard  from  the 
castle-yard,  and  a  moment  later  a  servitor  announced 
the  return  of  the  messenger  who  had  been  sent  to  the 
king  ;  and,  the  Earl  of  Hereford  bidding  him  enter,  a 
knight  and  squire,  travel-stained  and  showing  signs  of 
a  hasty  journey,  advanced  up  the  hall  and  bowed  before 
the  dais. 

The  knight  dropped  on  his  knee,  and  presented  the 
earl  with  a  missive  tied  with  purple  silk  and  sealed  with 
the  royal  seal. 

'  How  now,  Sir  Neel !  how  comest  thou  so  tardily  ? ' 
demanded  tlic  earl,  taking  the  letter  from  the  knii^ht 
with  eager  hands  and  severing  the  silk  with  his 
dagger. 

'  I  was  detained,  my  lord,  at  Rouen  to  wait  the  king's 
good  pleasure.' 

The  faces  of  the  two  earls  darkened,  and  Roger 
Fitzosbern  tore  open  the  king's  missive. 

Scarce  reading  it,  he  flung  it  to  Dc  Guader  with  a 
savage  oath,  stamping  his  foot  ujDon  the  ground. 

'William  shall  rue  this  insult!'  he  hissed  between  his 


22  THE  SUZERAIN'S  'NAY: 

shut   teeth,   his   face  scarlet   and    convulsed  with  rage  ; 
'  and  to  my  father's  son.' 

De  Guader,  not  less  moved,  held  the  parchment  with 
hands  that  so  shook  with  anger  that  the  dangling  seals 
clattered  against  each  other.  His  broad  chest  heaved, 
and  his  steel-grey  eyes  flashed  fire  as  sword  strikes  fire 
on  helm. 

Emma,  with  pale  cheeks  and  wide  eyes,  turned  from 
her  brother  to  her  lover,  and  the  East  Anglian  earl, 
exercising  a  huge  command  over  himself,  kept  silence, 
and  returned  the  letter  to  Roger  Fitzosbern. 

Hereford  shook  it  in  the  air,  clenching  his  fingers, 
while  all  the  guests  hung  wonderingly  on  his  actions. 

Suddenly  he  tore  the  king's  letter  into  fragments. 

'  Thus  has  William  rent  in  sunder  the  ties  that  bound 
me  to  him  ! '  he  shouted  furiously. 

Osbern,  Bishop  of  Exeter,  the  Earl  of  Hereford's 
uncle,  who,  though  he  had  refused  the  sanction  of  his 
presence  to  the  performances  of  Adelina,  had  entered 
the  hall  when  the  king's  messenger  arrived,  made  his 
way  through  the  noble  crowd  that  surrounded  his 
nephew. 

'  Hist,  my  Roger !  Anger  is  short  madness.  Keep  a 
hold  over  the  unruly  member,  lest  words  spoken  in  wrath 
be  thy  bane  in  time  of  peace.  I  know  not  the  contents 
of  the  missive  that  hath  moved  thee  so  greatly,  but  I 
prithee  be  calm.' 

'  Calm  ! '  cried  Roger.  '  Calm  !  De  Guader,  art  thou 
calm  ?' 

'  Yes,'  answered  De  Guader  shortly,  his  breath  break- 


THE  SUZERAIN'S  '  NAV:  23 

ing  in  quick  pants,  and  a  strange  green  light  not 
pleasant  to  witness  gleaming  in  his  eyes,  so  that  all  who 
saw  him  felt  that  his  calmness  was  more  terrible  than 
Roger's  fury. 

'Then,  by  the  rood!  if  thou  art  so  calm,"  retorted 
Hereford,  '  tell  my  guests  how  they  have  been  befooled 
Tell  my  sister  she  has  bestowed  her  hand  on  one  who 
can  resign  it  "calmly."' 

'  My  son,  my  son,'  remonstrated  the  bishop,  'thou  art 
unjust  to  thy  noble  brother,  whose  stake  in  this  matter 
is  even  greater  than  thine.' 

.,  '  Nay,  my  brother  he  is  forbid  to  be  ! '  stormed  Roger, 
with  another  terrific  curse. 

De  Guader  turned  to  the  beautiful  girl  to  whom  he 
had  come  to  bind  himself  in  solemn  betrothal,  and  who, 
having  accepted  his  wooing,  had  made  no  secret  of  her 
love. 

His  face  was  pallid  almost  as  his  ivory  robe,  his  lips 
trembled  as  he  held  out  his  hands  to  her,  but  for  some 
moments  he  was  dumb.  When  at  last  he  compelled 
speech,  his  voice  was  dull  with  pain  and  quivering  w  ith 
measureless  indignation. 

'My  lady,'  he  said,  holding  one  of  her  hands  in  each 
of  his,  but  not  trusting  himself  to  look  in  her  face,  '  I 
must  bid  thee  farewell.  I  have  no  right  to  remain 
lonecr  in  this  castle.  The  kincr  has  forbidden  our 
marriage.  I  had  hoped  to  make  thee  my  bride.  Bride 
of  my  heart  thou  wilt  alwa)-s  be  ! ' 

Before  the  startled,  frightened  girl  could  frame  a  reply, 
he  had  stooped  and   kissed  lur,  sprung  from  the  dais, 


■24  THE  SUZERAIN'S  'NAY: 

and  was  striding  down  the  hall,  with  the  many  barons 
and  bannerets,  knights  and  squires,  who  formed  his 
meinie,  following  behind  him. 

The  Countess  of  Hereford  led  her  young  sister-in-law 
from  the  hall  ;  while  the  remainder  of  the  noble  company, 
feeling  their  presence  somewhat  awkward,  as  guests  at 
a  betrothal  which  could  not  be  consummated,  found 
excuses  to  depart,  and  gathered  into  clusters,  each  lord 
summoning  his  following  and  the  ladies  of  his  house- 
hold. 

So  that  goodly  company  broke  up  in  hurry  and  con- 
fusion and  dismay,  and  the  insult  the  king  had  inflicted 
on  his  two  powerful  earls  was  the  talk  of  every  mouth. 


CHAPTKR  II. 

LOVE   OR   LOVALTV. 

Shortly  after  Easter,  on  the  da}-  that  would  have 
been  her  weddhig-day,  Emma  Fitzosbern  sat  in  her 
bower  in  Hereford  Castle,  looking  dreamily  at  the 
misty  outlines  of  the  distant  Welsh  hills,  behind 
which  the  sun  was  setting  in  golden  splendour.  Her 
favourite  bower  -  maiden  sat  on  a  low  stool  at  her 
feet,  and  the  glory  of  the  sunset  poured  over  the  grace- 
ful figures  of  the  two  girls,  and  gilded  the  maundrj- 
work  of  rushes  at  their  feet  and  the  rich  tapcstr\- 
which  covered  the  walls  around  them,  while  the 
gorgeou.s  clouds  were  piled  into  battlemented  towers, 
mocking  with  their  vapoury  illusion  the  solid  masonry 
below  them. 

Emma's  companion  was  looking  up  at  her  face  w  iih 
an  expression  of  tender  love  and  sympathy.  She  was  a 
girl  of  seventeen,  some  four  years  younger  than  her  lad\-, 
and  wore  the  Saxon  headrail ;  the  little  rings  of  hair 
which  escaped  from  its  close  cover  were  of  Saxon  gold, 
while  her  pale  blue  robe  was  made  in  the  fashion  of  that 
nation,  full  and  flowing,  with  large,  hanging  sleeves.  The 
girdle  with  which    it  was   bound  was   ornamented  with 

25 


26  LOVE  OR  LOYALTY. 

jewels,  and  the  hems  were  edged  with  fur.  Her  face 
was  less  animated  and  striking  than  that  of  the  noble 
Norman,  but  had  a  winsome  beauty  of  its  own,  the  blue 
eyes  frank  and  affectionate,  and  the  rounded  features 
not  wanting  in  character. 

An  embroidery  frame  stood  before  them;  for  though 
Eadgyth  of  Norwich  had  Hved  in  a  Norman  household 
since  she  was  ten,  she  had  perseveringly  acquired  the 
special  accomplishment  of  her  countrywomen  in  spite 
of  difficulties,  and  Emma  fitfully  worked  at  it  also  under 
her  guidance. 

Eadgyth  was  a  cousin  in  some  sort,  second  or  third, 
perhaps,  to  Harold  Godwinsson,  and  made  it  a  point  of 
honour  to  keep  his  memory  green,  though  she  had  grown 
to  love  dearly  the  generous  Norman  maiden,  who  treated 
her  more  as  a  sister  than  a  dependent. 

Many  relatives  of  Harold  had  property  in  Norwich, 
and  when  Ralph  de  Guader  had  received  his  earldom  of 
Norfolk  and  Suffolk,  which  Harold's  death  on  the  field 
of  Senlac  had  rendered  vacant,  he  had  taken  pity  on  the 
forlorn  condition  of  the  little  damsel,  whose  male  relatives 
had  been  slain  in  the  contest,  and  who  was  thus  left 
without  protection  from  the  insolent  conquerors.  De 
Guader  had  been  amused  by  the  patriotic  defiance  the 
bereaved  maiden  of  ten  had  flung  at  him,  rating  him  as 
a  renegade  and  a  murderer,  with  other  terms  of  equal 
politeness  which  had  sounded  oddly  from  her  flower- 
like  mouth,  and  perhaps  his  conscience  smote  him,  and 
told  him  they  were  not  untrue.  Her  courage  moved 
his  admiration  and    generosity,  and,  having  no  women- 


LOVE  OR  LOYALTY.  27 

folk  of  his  own  to  whom  he  could  confide  her,  he 
had  induced  William  Fitzosbern  the  Norman  Earl  of 
Hereford,  to  take  her  into  his  castle  as  a  playmate 
and  lady  -  in  -  waiting  for  his  daughter  Emma.  So 
began  a  companionship  which  was  to  endure  for  their 
li\-es. 

The  tide  of  sad  reflection  was  flooding  Emma's  heart 
to  the  brim.  Since  the  cruel  day  on  which  the  king's 
mandate  had  been  received,  the  subject  of  her  interrupted 
betrothal  had  been  buried  in  dead  silence.  Her  brother 
and  guardian,  the  )oung  Earl  of  Hereford,  had  set  out 
on  a  journey  a  day  or  two  later,  but  had  left  even  his 
wife  in  ignorance  of  its  aim  and  direction.  lunma,  on 
her  own  part,  had  shrunk  from  speech.  Her  wounds 
were  too  sore  to  bear  the  probing  even  of  those  who 
loved  her.  But  at  length,  on  this  bright  May  evening, 
she  spoke. 

'This  was  to  have  been  my  wedding-day,  Eadg)'th,' 
she  said. 

A  cloud  of  scornful  anger  passed  over  the  face  of  the 
Saxon  girl,  and  her  blue  eyes  flashed. 

'  So  William  of  Normandy  has  ruined  both  our  li\'es  ! ' 
she  said  hotly,  her  young  voice  quivering  with  passion. 
'  I  would  that  the  earth  had  opened  and  swallowed  him 
up  when  he  first  set  foot  on  ICnglish  ground,  instead  of 
only  catching  him  by  the  ankle,  to  enable  him  to  make 
a  jest  and  find  a  good  omen  ! " 

Emma  bent  down,  laughing,  that  she  migiit  not  cr)-. 

'Hush!'  she  said;  'little  rebel,  thou  art  talking 
treason  ! ' 


28  LO]-E  OR  LOYALTY. 

'Nay,'  returned  Eadgyth,  'for  I  have  never  vowed 
fealty.' 

'Ah,  well,'  answered  Emma,  sighing,  'my  forbears 
have  fought  for  William's  forbears  for  generations  !  It 
is  bred  in  my  blood  to  be  obedient  to  him.  He  would 
never  have  been  King  of  England,  had  not  my  father 
lavished  wealth  and  activity,  and  roused  the  barons  and 
the  burghers  by  example  and  ruse.' 

'A  fine  reason,  truly,  for  making  thy  father's  daughter 
miserable,'  quoth  Eadgyth.  '  Nevertheless,  if  thou  art 
bred  to  obedience,  it  seemeth  not  less  irksome  to  thee  ! 
Perhaps  it  is  because  he  owes  the  keeping  of  the  English 
crown  to  the  valour  with  which  Ralph  de  Guader  beat 
back  the  Danes,  that  he  thwarts  ///;// .'  Not  that  I  can 
Sparc  any  pity  for  Ralph.  If  he  had  not  played  m\- 
cousin  Harold  false,  how  different  all  things  might  have 
been.  He,  the  grand-nephew  of  the  sainted  King 
Eadward !  It  seems  a  just  retribution  that  William 
should  thwart  him.' 

'  On  my  part,  I  cannot  account  it  a  crime  in  Ralph  to 
have  sided  with  my  countrymen,'  Emma  said,  with  a 
gentle  smile  ;  'but  wc  cannot  look  on  those  things  with 
the  same  eyes.' 

'  No  ;  I  think  it  is  perhaps  a  good  thing  that  thou 
sittest  here,  instead  of  being  Ralph  de  Guader's  bride, 
though  I  had  lief  have  gone  w  ith  thee  to  my  dear  old 
Norwich,'  said  Eadgyth.  '  My  dear  old  Norwich  ! '  she 
repeated,  with  a  sigh.  '  I  should  scarce  know  it  again, 
with  its  fine  new  castle,  and  its  streets  full  of  Normans 
and  Bretons,  and  foul,  greedy  Jews.' 


L 0 VE  OR  L0\ Vi LTY.  29 

'Oh,  Eadgyth  !  Eadgyth  !  I  will  ha\-e  no  more  to 
say  to  thee,  if  thou  takest  part  against  my  knight ! '  said 
Emma,  withdrawing  her  hands  and  folding  them  on  her 
lap. 

'I  did  not  mean  to  wound  tlice,  Emma!'  exclaimed 
the  Saxon,  clasping  both  hands  affectionately  round 
Emma's  right  arm.  '  I  must  needs  be  grateful  to  the 
earl,  since  I  owe  to  him  my  happy  home  with  thee. 
Yet,'  she  added  sadly,  '  forgive  me  if  I  cannot  quite  for- 
get that  such  a  refuge  would  not  ha\e  been  needful  to 
me,  if  he  had  been  firm  to  the  Dragon  standard.  Disguise 
it  as  thou  wilt,  I  am  but  thy  servnng-maidcn,' 

'When  I  striv^e  so  carefully  to  disguise  it,  dost  thou 
think  it  generous  thus  to  pull  it  forth  to  the  light  of 
day?'  asked  Emma,  and  the  tears,  which  she  had  till 
then  kept  back  with  difficulty,  would  no  longer  be 
restrained,  and  rolled  rapidly  down  her  cheeks. 

'No,  it  is  not  generous!'  cried  Eadgyth,  full  of  rutii. 
'  And  I  am  not  worthy  to  lace  thy  shoe  latchet !  Forgive 
me,  dear  Emnia  ! ' 

As  she  spoke,  the  ring  of  a  mailed  footstep  sounded 
in  the  corridor  without,  and  the  door  was  uncere- 
moniously opened,  and  gave  entrance  to  the  young  Earl 
of  Hereford,  clad  in  a  whole  suit  of  mail,  but  unhelmed. 

'What!  sitting  in  darkness,  maidens?'  and,  turning 
to  a  varlet  with  a  torch,  who  had  accompanied  him  to 
the  door,  he  took  it  from  the  lad's  hold,  and  placed  it 
wiih  his  own  hands  in  a  sconce  beside  the  hearth.  '  1 
lo\c  the  light,'  he  said,  laughing.  '  Leave  darkness  to 
the  bats  and  owls,' 


30  '        LOl -E  OR  LOYALTY. 

Emma  had  risen,  and  ran  to  him  gladly,  kissing  him 
on  the  cheek.  '  Oh,  Roger  ! '  she  said,  '  I  am  so  glad  of 
thy  return  I ' 

But  the  joy  that  had  come  into  her  face  at  his  unex- 
pected appearance  did  not  dry  the  tears  which  she  had 
forgotten  to  wipe  away  in  her  surprise,  and  he  saw  them. 

'  Tears,  Emma,  tears  ?  What !  is  my  little  sister  weep- 
ing?' he  asked  in  a  tone  that  was  half  banter,  half 
tenderness.  '  This  is  a  thing  that  must  be  inquired  into. 
I  can  have  no  weeping  damsels  in  castle  of  mine.' 

'Eadgyth  and  I  were  quarrelling,' said  Emma  gaily, 
'  because  we  were  so  lonely  in  thine  absence,  and  could 
find  nothing  better  to  do.' 

'  By  the  mass  !  that  won't  serve  thee  for  an  excuse, 
Emma,'  answered  the  earl  ;  then,  taking  her  hands  and 
looking  searchingly  in  her  face,  he  said  somewhat  sternly, 
as  if  to  compel  an  answer,  '  Art  thou  fretting  at  the 
breaking  of  thy  troth  wiih  Ralph  de  Guader?' 

Emma  turned  away  blushing  from  his  scrutiny. 

'The  wound  is  fresh  yet,  Roger!'  she  said.  'It  will 
bleed.     Time  will  perchance  heal  it.' 

'And  by  all  the  saints!  a  very  short  time  too!'  said 
Hereford  triumphantly.  '  Thou  shalt  plight  a  new  troth 
to-night.' 

Emma  started  with  apprehension.  In  those  days, 
damsels  of  rank  were  often  disposed  of  in  marriage  by 
their  male  relatives  with  very  little  regard  to  their 
prejudices  or  affections,  a  girl's  whimsies  appearing  of 
small  consequence  in  their  eyes  beside  the  importance  of 
a  good    political   alliance,   and    Emma    feared    lest   her 


LOVE  OR  LOYALTY.  3' 

brother  might  uitcnd  to  demand  a  summary  transference 
of  her  affections.  Hitherto,  it  was  true  that  the  young 
earl  had  been  tender  and  indulgent,  and  had  regarded 
her  wishes  the  more  readily  perhaps  in  this  matter,  that 
Ralph  de  Guader,  the  powerful  Earl  of  East  Anglia,  was 
the  very  man  of  all  others  to  suit  his  views  of  a  desirable 
brother-in-law.  But  Emma  knew  him  to  be  both  im- 
pulsive and  obstinate,  and  visions  of  a  fierce  struggle 
with  him,  ending  in  the  cloister,  the  haven  of  refuge  for 
women  in  those  days,  passed  through  her  mind. 

The  earl,  however,  took  no  notice  of  her  trepidation. 
'  Come,'  he  said,  and  led  the  way  down  the  wide  stone 
staircase.  Emma  followed  trembling,  and  wondering 
what  ordeal  was  before  her.  They  entered  a  small  room 
set  apart  near  the  great  banqueting-hall,  which  was  the 
earl's  special  sanctum. 

The  next  moment  she  fcnnid  herself  with  her  two 
hands  clasped  in  those  of  Ralph  dc  Guader,  while  he 
was  looking  down  at  her  with  a  hunger  of  entreaty  in 
his  eyes  ;  and  in  the  minds  of  both  was  the  unspoken 
thought,  that  if  all  had  gone  well  the)'  would  have  been 
husband  and  wife  that  day. 

The  revulsion  from  apprehension  to  jo)'  was  so  great 
as  to  be  almost  a  pain. 

'  Is  it  thou  indeed,  Ralph  ? '  she  faltered  ;  and  the 
young  Earl  of  Hereford  laughed. 

'Didst  think  I  had  brought  home  an  ogre  to  be  my 
beau-frere'  he  asked,  '  that  thou  wast  so  sore  afraid  ? ' 

Emma  turned  anxiously  to  De  Guader. 

'  The  king,  then,  has  relented  ?  '  she  said  quickly.     ■  in 


32  LOVE  OR  LOYALTY. 

sooth,  I  doubted  not  his  heart  would  soften.     He  could 
not  be  so  cruel  as  to  part  us ! ' 

De  Guader  shot  a  questioning  glance  at  Hereford. 
'  Plead  thine  own  cause,  valiant  knight  1 '  said  Roger 
a  little  sarcastically.  '  I  was  never  a  maker  of  speeches, 
and,  by  the  Holy  Virgin  !  thy  eloquence  has  twisted  me 
round  thy  little  finger.  See  if  thou  canst  vie  with  a 
woman's  sharp  wits.  To  say  truth,  I  care  not  to  breathe 
thy  plan  to  the  vagrant  air,  it  has  such  a  treasonable 
savour.' 

Emma  looked  from  one  to  the  other  for  a  solution  of 
the  mystery,  but  she  did  not  see  much  in  De  Guader's 
dark,  handsome  face  to  help  her  to  read  riddles. 

'  Thy  brother  bids  me  proffer  my  own  petition,  dear 
lady,'  he  said.  '  If  I  hesitate,  be  merciful  to  my  unreadi- 
ness, for  it  is  no  easy  boon  I  come  to  ask  of  thee.' 

He  led  her  to  a  carved  settle  which  stood  beside  the 
fireplace,  and  when  she  was  seated,  he  stood  before 
her  silently  a  moment  or  two,  the  firelight  scintillating 
on  the  ringjs  of  the  mail  in  which  he  was  sheathed  from 
head  to  foot,  and  sparkling  on  the  jewels  of  his  baldric 
and  the  golden  hilt  of  his  great  two-handed  sword,  for, 
like  her  brother,  he  was  still  in  his  harness. 

'  Noble  Emma,  I  have  come  to  ask  thee  to  share  with 
me  danger  and  difficulty,'  he  said.  '  The  king  has  not 
relented.  But  his  mandate  is  unjust,  and  I  beg  thee  to 
disregard  it,  and  to  give  me  once  more  the  sweet  promise 
that  thou  wilt  be  my  bride.' 

'  Dost  thou  mean  that  thou  wouldst  ask  me  to  defy 
the  king?'  faltered  Emma,  a  great  terror  chasing  away 


1 


LOVE  OR  L O YA L T } '. 


jj 


the  short-lived  joy  which  had  flooded  her  heart.  She 
turned  wide,  anxious  eyes  upon  her  brother. 

'  Dost  thou  not  see,  Emma,  we  are  sick  of  spending 
our  lives  for  William,  and  getting  nothing  but  kicks  and 
curses  from  him  ? '  explained  the  prosaic  Roger.  '  By 
the  mass  !  it  is  hard  on  Ralph  and  on  me,  after  so  much 
faithful  service,  and  so  maint  hard  blows  given  and 
taken  in  William's  business,  that  he  should  mar  all  our 
plans  and  spoil  all  our  pleasure  by  putting  his  veto  on 
your  marriage.  A  curse  on  loyalty  !  If  this  is  all  it 
brings,  we  may  as  well  be  a  little  disloyal' 

Roger  had  better  have  allowed  his  friend  to  plead  his 
own  cause  as  he  had  bidden  him  to  do.  Ralph's  appeal 
to  Emma  to  share  danger  with  him  had  touched  her 
generous  spirit.  Her  brother's  outburst  against  his 
sovereign  roused  all  her  loyalty. 

'  I  know  not  what  to  reply  to  such  converse,'  said 
Emma  indignantly ;  then  added,  between  jest  and 
earnest,  the  tears  trembling  on  her  lashes  as  she  looked 
at  her  brother,  '  I  would  fain  let  it  pass  as  a  bad  joke,  or 
to  think  that  perchance  ye  twain  have  been  drinking  a 
little  copiously  at  the  wine-cup.' 

'Nay,  Emma,  that  is  an  injustice!'  cried  Hereford, 
bursting  into  laughter,  and  clapping  his  hand  down  upon 
De  Guader's  mailed  shoulder  ;  '  when  this  poor  love-lorn 
galliard  would  not  break  fast  till  he  had  seen  thee,  albeit 
he  had  been  in  sellc  all  day,  so  fire-hot  was  he  to  mend 
his  broken  troth.' 

'  It  may  well  seem  strange  converse  to  the  gentle 
damsel,'   said    Ralph    gravely.      'The    earl  your   father 


34  LOVE  OR  LOYALTY. 

almost  worshipped  William  of  Normandy,  who,  in  good 
sooth,  would  never  have  been  King  of  England  but  for 
his  stalwart  aid,  and  she  has  never  heard  whisper  of 
aught  against  the  king.  We  who  have  writhed  under 
his  imperious  tyranny,  and  groaned  in  spirit  so  fiercely,' 
— here  the  level  brows  were  knitted  and  the  entreating 
face  grew  stern,  while  the  green  light  shone  in  the  deep- 
set  eyes, — '  can  scarce  conceive  the  shock  she  feels  at  our 
sudden  speech.' 

'  She  will  have  to  get  used  to  it,'  said  Earl  Roger 
dryly,  '  for  my  patience  is  at  an  end.  Beshrew  me  !  she 
will  hear  a  good  deal  of  such  talk.  William  has  ever 
popped  upon  me  like  a  cat  on  a  mouse  whenever  any 
scheme  which  promised  me  well  was  in  hand.  And 
what  has  he  given  me  but  ravaged  land  that  the  Welsh 
run  over  and  harry  at  will  ?  I  say  he  only  gives  away 
what  he  must  needs  pay  a  garrison  to  defend  if  he  kept 
it  himself  What  is  your  earldom  of  Norwich,  Ralph, 
but  sea-washed  dunes  or  waste  corn  lands  ?  He  is  ever 
nibbling  at  our  power.  Earls,  indeed  !  Poor  earls  are 
we  beside  Godwin,  Leofric,  and  Siward !  But  I  tell 
thee  he  has  gone  too  far  this  time.  I'll  not  be  thwarted 
in  my  plan  to  be  thy  brother-in-law  ;  no,  neither  by 
king-lord  or  foolish  damsel ! '  He  turned  to  Emma 
somewhat  fiercely.  '  Hark  ye,  sister  of  mine,  by  the 
little  finger  of  St.  Nicholas,  to  whom  De  Guader  has 
dedicated  his  castle  of  Blauncheflour,  thou  hadst  better 
make  no  mincing  about  accepting  a  man  thou  hast 
already  pleaded  guilty  to  loving,  or  I  shall  have  a  crow 
to  pluck  with  thee  ! ' 


LOVE  OR  LOYALTY.  35 

'Nay,  nay!'  exclaimed  the  courteous  De  Guader, 
smiling  affectionately  at  the  bewildered  and  somewhat 
frightened  Emma,  and  not  a  little  pleased  by  this  crude 
revelation  of  his  lady's  favour.  'Thy  noble  sister  must 
take  me  of  her  own  free  will  or  not  at  all.  Holy  Virgin  ! 
her  will  is  my  law.' 

Emma  raised  her  head  with  a  proud  and  splendid 
gesture. 

'  Ay,'  she  cried,  '  Sir  Earl  of  Norwich  !  I  will  have 
neither  thee  nor  any  man  else  but  of  my  own  free  will ! 
Did  they  stretch  me  on  the  rack,  or  persuade  me  ever  so 
by  such-like  loving  persuasions,  I  would  have  none  I  did 
not  choose ! ' 

The  two  earls  laughed. 

*  Well  crowed,  fair  hen  ! '  cried  her  brother,  and  Ralph 
regarded  her  with  admiring  eyes. 

'There  spoke  the  true  daughter  of  William  Fitz- 
osbern,  eh,  Roger?'  he  exclaimed.  '  Methinks  if  the 
Lady  Emma  had  felt  the  Conqueror's  heel  as  heavy  as 
we,  her  blood  would  boil  as  easily.  But  in  sooth,  dear 
lady,  the  minstrels  and  romaunt  writers  fill  damsels' 
heads  with  fine  notions  which  we  poor  knights  find  it 
hard  to  carry  out  in  the  vulgar  battle  of  everyday  life. 
Thy  hero  William,  our  lord-king  himself,  rebelled  when 
he  was  ordered  to  give  up  the  chosen  of  his  heart,  the 
beautiful  Matilda  of  Flanders  ;  and — saints  defend  us  ! 
— it  was  the  Holy  Father  himself  that  he  disobeyed  !  ' 
Here  the  earl  crossed  himself 

'Thou  hast  a  noble  example,  Emma  ;  make  haste  to 
follow  it,'  said  her  brother  jestingly. 


36  LOVE  OR  LOYALTY. 

*  Oh,'  said  Emma,  'your  converse  brings  me  to 
perplexity.  Give  me  till  the  morning,  and  let  me 
ponder  on  your  words.     They  are  sudden.' 

Ralph  raised  her  hand  respectfully  to  his  lips. 

'  We  can  do  no  less,  dear  lady,'  he  said. 


II 


CHAPTER  III. 

JEST   AND   EARNEST. 

'  That  means/  said  Ralph  de  Guader  thoughtfully,  when 
Emma  had  left  the  room,  ' "  Let  me  consult  my  ghostly 
counsellor."  Who  is  the  Lady  Emma's  director,  Fitz- 
osbern  ?  Is  not  Father  Theodred  of  Crovvland  thine 
almoner? — he  who  was  the  pet  of  our  East  Anglian 
Bishop  yEthelmair,  and  who  was  recommended  to  thee 
by  thine  English-loving  uncle  of  Exeter?' 

'  That  is  so,'  assented  Hereford  ;  but  added  impatiently, 
'  I  prithee  truce  to  thy  plans  and  plottings.  I  am  no 
moonstruck  lover,  and  cannot  subsist  on  air,  however 
well  such  unsubstantial  fare  may  suit  thy  humour. 
Here  we  have  ridden  a  good  thirty  miles,  and  talked  a 
candle  to  the  sconce,  and  I  vow  to  thee,  I  had  liefer 
satisfy  my  hunger  than  my  ambition.  What  boots  a 
fat  earldom  to  a  man  if  he  is  to  die  of  starvation  before 
he  gets  it?' 

De  Guader  glanced  rather  contemptuously  at  his 
companion,  but  prepared  to  follow  him. 

'Let  nic  have  speech  with  thine  almoner  this  night, 
nevertheless,'  he  said,  '  in  my  chamber  when  I  retire 
from  the  hall.     It  may  make  or  mar  our  undertaking.' 


38  JEST  AND  EARNEST. 

'  As  thou  wilt/  answered  Roger  carelessly ;  '  but  thou 
canst  scarce  expect  to  find  the  good  man  in  the  best  of 
humours  if  thou  hast  so  little  grace  as  to  waken  him  up 
in  the  dead  of  night.  I  warrant  me  he  has  been  snug 
under  his  coverlet  this  two  hours.' 

'  I  have  that  to  say  which  will  wake  him,'  said  Ralph 
grimly.  '  But  of  a  truth  the  hours  have  sped.  It  would 
be  better,  perhaps,  to  pray  the  good  father  to  give  me 
audience  with  him  in  the  morning,  before  he  sees  any 
other.     Wilt  thou  have  such  message  delivered  ? ' 

Earl  Roger  called  a  menial  and  gave  the  necessary 
order,  and  summoned  his  armourer,  whom  he  bade 
to  attend  his  guest,  and  then  wait  on  himself;  and 
they  retired  to  their  chambers  to  be  unharnessed  of 
their  armour, — a  process  requiring  aid  of  hammer  and 
tongs, — and  to  indulge  in  the  refreshment  of  the 
bath,  a  luxury  the  Normans  loved  as  dearly  as  the 
Romans. 

The  hour  was  not  far  past  nine,  and,  to  our  way  of 
thinking,  would  not  have  been  late  ;  but  the  Norman 
fashion  was  to  begin  the  day  early,  dinner  being  served 
at  nine  in  the  morning,  and  a  second  meal  only  being 
usual.  When  a  third  meal  was  desired,  as  on  this 
occasion,  it  was  informal,  and  consisted  usually  of  cold 
meats,  being  called  liverie. 

Accordingly,  when  the  two  earls  met  again,  clad 
in  the  flowing  robes  which  replaced  their  military 
accoutrements,  they  had  no  companions  at  the  table 
save  a  couple  of  fine  bloodhounds,  which  were  pets  of 
the    Earl    of   Hereford,    and    had    invited    themselves 


JEST  AND  EARNEST.  39 

when  they  smelt  the  good  cheer ;  the  Countess  of 
Hereford  remaining  in  her  bower,  where  her  husband 
had  visited  her,  and  deHghted  her  by  his  unexpected 
return. 

The  table  was  covered  with  fine  linen  ;  tall  candles,  in 
golden  candlesticks  handsomely  wrought,  gave  light  to 
the  scene  ;  and  the  dishes  of  gold  and  silver  containing 
the  meats  were  presented  on  the  knee  by  pages,  whose 
tunics  were  embroidered  with  the  Hereford  cognisance, 
gules,  a  bend  azure  and  a  fesse  or. 

Before  commencing  their  meal,  a  silver  basin  containing 
scented  water  was  offered  to  the  earls  in  which  to  wash 
their  hands.  De  Guader  called  for  a  napkin  on  which 
to  dry  the  fingers  he  had  daintily  dipped  into  the  scent, 
whereat  the  page  opened  wide  eyes,  though  he  obeyed 
the  order,  for  the  Norman  fashion  was  to  wave  the  hands 
in  the  air  till  they  were  dry,  so  that  the  scent  might  not 
be  lost,  and  to  wipe  them  on  a  cloth  was  considered 
Saxon  and  barbaric. 

'  I  am  cultivating  English  ways,  thou  seest,'  observed 
the  Karl  of  the  East  Angles.  'It  is  well  to  begin  at 
once.'     Whereat  Hereford  laughed. 

The  fare  was  dainty  rather  than  bountiful.  A  cold 
venison  pasty,  and  a  young  heron,  larded,  roasted,  and 
eaten  with  ginger,  forming  the  most  important  dishes  ; 
with  simnel  and  wastcl  cakes,  and  sunth')-  sweetmeats, 
and  wines  rejoicing  in  the  strange  names  of  pigment 
and  moral. 

The  earls  carved  for  themselves  with  their  daggers, 
and  used  neither  forks  nor  spoons. 


40  JEST  AND  EARNEST, 

Hereford,  although  he  had  declared  himself  in  such 
a  famished  condition,  showed  no  great  prowess  as  a 
trencherman,  but  seemed  more  inclined  to  help  himself 
from  the  wine-cup.  He  was  obviously  in  an  unsettled 
and  irritable  mood,  while  his  companion  inclined  to  the 
taciturn. 

Suddenly  Earl  Roger  exclaimed, — 
'  By  the  mass  !  this  meal  is  not  sprightly.  Did  I  not 
see  thy  jester  Grillonne  amongst  thy  vieinie  1  Send  for 
the  rogue  and  for  my  Marlette,  and  let  the  twain  hold 
a  tourney  of  wit.  Though  I  wager  thy  knave  will 
win.' 

'  If  thy  sleepy  almoner  might  not  be  summoned  from 
his  slumber  to  hold  converse  on  a  weighty  matter, 
methinks  it  is  somewhat  hard  that  my  poor  jester  should 
be  called  upon  to  cudgel  his  wits ! '  said  Ralph.  '  But 
as  thou  wilt.' 

'  I'll  waken  the  varlet  up  with  a  cup  of  moral,'  answered 
Hereford  ;  and  a  few  moments  later  the  two  fools  were 
introduced,  in  obedience  to  his  order, — Marlette  rubbing 
his  eyes  and  yawning ;  Grillonne  awake  and  eager- 
eyed. 

Marlette  was  a  poor  imbecile,  with  a  heavy  face  and 
clumsy  figure,  who  caused  laughter  more  by  the  incon- 
gruity of  his  short,  puzzle-headed  interjections,  than  by 
any  real  humour  in  his  sayings.  But  the  Earl  of  East 
Anglia's  jester  was  a  born  buffoon,  who  would  have 
made  a  comfortable  living,  if  not  a  fortune,  in  the  circus 
in  these  days.  Little,  alert,  wiry,  his  lithe  body  seemed 
to  be  always  in  motion,  and  the  bells  on  his  peaked  cap 


JEST  AND  EARNEST.  ^\ 

rarely  ceased  to  jingle.  He  was  nearly  sixty,  and  his 
scant  white  hair,  straggling  from  under  his  whimsical 
headgear,  gave  him  an  elfish  look,  enhanced  by  the 
wizened,  wrinkled  countenance  beneath  it,  and  his 
oblique,  twinkling  eyes.  He  was  a  Breton,  who  had 
come  over  in  the  train  of  Ralph  the  Stallcr's  Breton 
bride  in  good  King  Eadvvard's  days,  and  he  had  loved 
the  gentle  lady,  who  was  always  kind  to  him,  and  well 
pleased  to  hear  him  troll  French  ballads  when  she  grew 
weary  of  hearing  the  strange  Saxon  tongue,  and  felt 
forlorn  and  homesick.  And  he  had  loved  her  hand- 
some boy,  who  inherited  her  dark  face  and  eagle  nose, 
though  not  her  bright  dark  eyes,  and  had  followed  him 
back  to  Brittany,  when,  for  some  reason  the  chroniclers 
do  not  report,  he  had  suffered  banishment  and  confisca- 
tion of  his  estates.  And  he  had  returned  with  him 
when  he  helped  the  Conqueror  to  win  England.  De 
Guader  knew  and  valued  his  fidelity,  and  took  him  with 
him  whithersoever  he  went. 

'  How  now,  fool  Grillonne ! '  was  the  Earl  of  Here- 
ford's greeting.  'I  promised  to  pour  out  a  full  cup  of 
moral  to  wake  thee  up  withal,  but  it  seems  thou  art  by 
far  too  much  awake  already.  I  had  best  give  two  cups 
to  Marietta  iiere.' 

'Nay,  good  uncle,'  cried  the  jester,  'that  would  be  but 
sorry  sport!  I  do  but  walk  in  my  sleep.  Give  me  the 
wine,  and  thou  wilt  sec  mc  in  m\-  waking  state.' 

The  earl  signed  to  a  page  to  pour  out  a  cup  of  wine, 
and  handed  it  to  him.  He  drank  it,  not  hastily,  but 
sipping  it,  and  smacking  his  lips  with  the  air  of  a  judge  ; 


42  JEST  AND  EARNEST. 

and  when  he  had  drained  the  cup  he  turned  it  bottom 
upwards.  He  then  performed  a  series  of  somersaults 
from  one  end  of  the  long  banqueting-hall  to  the  other, 
and  finished  by  springing  upon  the  shoulders  of  Marlette, 
standing  erect  with  one  foot  upon  the  table,  and  the 
other  on  his  brother  fool's  neck. 

'  Ha  !  Good  nuncles,  I  am  like  our  lord  King  William 
astride  of  two  kingdoms ! '  he  cried,  waving  his  bauble 
as  if  it  were  a  sceptre,  and  aping  an  air  of  majesty, 
rendered  most  ridiculous  by  his  effort  to  keep  his 
balance  on  his  unequal  and,  on  one  side,  unsteady 
footing. 

Marlette,  astonished  and  quite  at  a  nonplus,  sought 
only  to  free  himself  from  the  weight  on  his  shoulder, 
and  with  a  yell  dropped  his  half-empty  goblet  of  wine, 
and  dashed  away,  leaving  the  saucy  Grillonne  sprawling 
on  his  back  on  the  table,  while  the  pages  sprang  forward 
to  rescue  the  dishes,  and  the  bloodhounds  snarled  in 
fierce  surprise. 

'  Help,  help,  good  nuncles  ! '  cried  the  jester.  '  Mine 
island  gives  me  the  slip.  Ah,  well,  I'll  content  myself 
with  the  continent !  It  hath  good  cheer  upon  it.'  So 
saying,  he  began  to  help  himself  to  the  dainties  in  his 
reach. 

The  Earl  of  Hereford  burst  into  a  roar  of  laughter, 
but  the  jester's  master,  smiling  grimly,  bade  him 
beware  of  unseemly  subjects.  '  Crowned  heads  are  no 
fit  themes  for  thy  cracks,  Sir  Fool ! '  he  said. 

'  Chide  me  not,  my  Earl  of  earls  ! '  replied  the  jester, 
who  saw  that  his  lord  was  not  seriously  displeased.     '  I 


JEST  AND  EARNEST.  43 

meant  no  damage  or  irreverence.  I  have  too  great  a 
respect  for  my  hide,  and  would  fain  save  it  a  tanning ! ' 
Wherewith  he  descended  from  the  table  with  an  air  of 
the  most  sage  gravity,  calmly  filling  his  pockets  the 
while  with  simnels. 

'Go  to!  Thou  art  an  impudent  knave!'  cried  De 
Guader ;  and  Earl  Roger,  laughing  more  heartily  than 
before,  pulled  out  a  penny  (equal  to  about  seventeen 
shillings  and  sixpence  of  our  money)  and  tossed  it  to 
him. 

'  Thou  art  the  prince  of  fools  ! '  he  exclaimed.  '  Would 
I  had  thee  in  my  following.  Thou  art  of  some  worth  to 
drive  dull  care  away.' 

In  explanation  of  the  fool's  dangerous  jest,  we  may 
relate  how  William  of  Normandy  dealt  with  the  Angevins 
when  they  dared  to  remind  him  that  his  mother  was  the 
daughter  of  a  tanner,  by  ornamenting  the  walls  of  Alcncon 
with  hides,  and  shouting  '  La  Pel  !  a  la  Pel  I '  in  ridicule, 
when  he  came  to  besiege  their  town.  They  had  formed 
a  tete-dn-pont  to  cover  the  passage  of  the  river,  from  which 
William  dislodged  them  by  filling  up  the  moat  with 
wood  and  firing  it,  so  that  the  unfortunate  Angevins 
were  surrounded  by  flames,  through  which  gleamed  the 
swords  of  the  mocking  Normans,  barring  their  passage 
to  the  river  beyond.  The  half-roasted  garrison  fought 
with  unavailing  valour,  but  twenty  surviving  for  a  still 
worse  fate  from  their  relentless  foe.  William  ordered 
their  hands  and  feet  to  be  cut  off  and  their  eyes  to  be 
put  out,  and  despatched  an  Angevin  soldier,  who  had 
previously  been  made  prisoner,  and  who  had  witnessed 


44  JEST  AND  EARNEST. 

the  punishment,  to  tell  the  garrison  how  their  comrades 
had  fared,  and  to  promise  them  a  similar  fate  unless 
they  surrendered  before  night.  That  they  might  not 
doubt  the  veracity  of  the  messenger,  he  had  the  hands 
and  feet  which  had  been  struck  from  the  prisoners  put 
into  his  mangonels,  and  shot  them  on  to  the  walls, 
which  so  impressed  the  townsmen  that  they  surrendered 
at  once. 

When  the  two  earls  had  finished  their  repast,  they 
retired  to  their  sleeping  chambers  ;  but  as  Ralph  de 
Guader  reached  his  apartment,  he  was  met  by  the^arl 
of  Hereford's  almoner. 

'  I  am  come,  noble  earl,  in  obedience  to  thy  summons,' 
he  said,  '  understanding  that  thy  wish  was  to  have 
speech  of  me  before  any  other  ;  and  I  venture  to  intrude 
on  thee  to-night,  because  the  Lady  Emma  has  desired 
me  to  attend  her  at  daybreak.' 

'  Ha !  just  as  I  expected,'  said  the  earl  to  himself.  '  I 
thank  thee,  reverend  father,'  he  replied.  '  It  is  courteous 
and  kind,  and  my  wish  was  to  have  speech  with  thee 
to-night,  but  that  I  feared  to  break  in  upon  thy  rest. 
Take  me,  I  pray  thee,  to  thy  sanctum,  where  we  may  be 
together  without  audience.' 

Theodred  bowed  his  assent,  and  the  earl,  having  dis- 
missed his  attendants,  followed  the  almoner  to  his 
private  apartment,  a  small  but  snug  room  in  a  recess  in 
one  of  the  towers  of  the  castle.  In  the  centre  stood  a 
small  table  bearing  a  silver  crucifix,  covered  with  parch- 
ments and  materials  for  writing  and  illuminating,  a 
page  of  an  unfinished  missal  lying  on  the  writing-desk, 


JEST  AND  EARNEST.  45 

and  showing  what  the  occupant's  last  business  had 
been. 

Father  Theodred  offered  to  the  earl  the  carved  settle 
which  stood  before  his  writing-desk,  and  De  Guader 
sank  into  it  with  a  sigh,  and  for  a  time  was  silent. 
Theodred,  meanwhile,  acceding  with  rare  delicacy  to  his 
guest's  mood,  turned  to  a  corner  of  the  room  in  which 
was  fitted  up  a  small  shrine  of  the  Virgin,  and  busied 
himself  by  trimming  the  little  lamp  of  oil  which  burned 
before  it  perpetually. 

He  was  a  man  of  about  fifty  years  of  age,  strongly 
built,  and  of  the  very  fair  complexion  characteristic 
of  the  Anglo-Danes,  the  ring  of  hair  upon  his  tonsured 
head  being  lighter  in  colour  than  the  shaven  crown, 
with  a  ruddy,  healthy  face,  and  kind,  frank  blue  eyes. 

'Thine  occupation,  father,  reminds  me  that  I  am  the 
guest  of  a  holy  man,'  said  the  earl,  as  the  almoner 
turned  to  him  again.     '  I  prithee  give  me  thy  blessing.' 

'Thou  hast  it,  my  son,'  answered  the  priest,  extending 
his  hands  and  making  the  sign  of  the  cross  over  Ralph's 
bent  head,  and  murmuring  a  benediction. 

'  Thou  sayest,'  Ralph  began,  after  a  time,  '  that  the 
Lady  Emma  has  expressed  her  desire  to  consult  thee. 
The  matter  on  which  she  desires  thy  guidance  is  one  of 
some  weight' 

Theodred  seated  himself  on  a  wooden  stool  at  a  short 
distance  from  the  earl. 

*  Doubtless  the  matter  on  which  the  noble  Earl  of 
East  Anglia  would  consult  me  is  one  of  importance 
also  ?  '  he  said. 


46  JEST  AND  EARNEST. 

'  The  matter  on  which  we  twain  seek  thee,  father,  is 
one  and  the  same,'  said  Ralph,  with  a  smile,  'as  thy 
shrewd  wits  have  doubtless  already  opined.' 

'  I  had  some  such  notion,'  answered  the  almoner 
gravely. 

'Father  Theodred,'  said  Ralph,  grave  in  his  turn, 
'  thou  hast  the  reputation  of  an  honourable  man,  and  I 
am  about  to  repose  in  thee  a  trust  that  will  put  the 
fortunes,  and  even  the  lives,  of  more  than  one  noble 
personage,  including  myself,  in  thy  hands.' 

Theodred  sprang  up  hastily. 

'  Stay  thy  tongue,  noble  earl ! '  said  he  ;  '  trust  neither 
thy  fortune  nor  thy  life  in  my  hands.  Thou  knowest 
my  English  sympathies,  and  how  thou  hast  outraged 
them.  How  can  I  bear  goodwill  to  the  only  English 
noble  who  fought  beside  the  Norman  on  the  fatal  field 
where  Harold  Godwinsson — whom  God  assoilzie  ! — lost 
his  precious  life  ?  ' 

The  powerful  De  Guader,  famed  for  his  pride  and 
haughtiness,  and  his  impatience  of  all  rebuke,  even  from 
his  royal  master,  bore  this  bold  speech  from  the  Earl 
of  Hereford's  almoner  with  bent  head  and  dejected 
mien. 

'What  if  I  repent?'  he  asked  softly,  his  rich  voice 
quavering  as  he  spoke, 

Theodred  gazed  at  him  with  astonished  and  doubtful 
eyes,  and  came  back  to  his  stool  and  sat  down  again 
opposite  to  him. 

The  earl  raised  his  head  and  looked  the  almoner  in 
the  face  with  a  keen,  appealing  glance. 


JEST  AND  EARNEST.  47 

*  What  if  it  is  to  those  very  English  sympathies  that 
I  appeal  ? '  he  asked. 

Theodred,  considerably  affected,  answered,  '  Nay  then, 
speak  out.' 

'  And  if  thou  canst  not  support  me,  what  I  say  shall 
be  as  unspoken  ? ' 

'  Even  so.' 

'  Swear  thou  that  on  the  bones  of  St.  Guthlac  ! ' 

'  The  son  of  Ralph  the  Staller  should  know  that  an 
Englishman's  word  is  as  good  as  his  oath.' 

'  I  will  trust  thy  good  faith.  A  half  confidence  is  but 
a  fool's  wisdom.  The  point  on  which  the  Lady  Emma 
will  ask  thy  guidance  is  as  to  whether  she  shall  yet 
deign  to  be  my  wife.' 

'Ah!'  said  Theodred,  almost  involuntaril}%  in  a  low 
tone;  'hast  thou  ventured  so  far?  Against  the  king's 
veto  ? ' 

*  By  St.  Eadward,  yes  ! ' 

Theodred's  face  darkened.  '  Take  not  the  name  of 
that  holy  saint,  who  was  world-king  and  heaven-king 
also,  to  witness  to  thy  sin  !  Thinkcst  thou  I  will  aid 
thee  in  treachery  to  thy  liege  lord  ? ' 

'  Sin  or  no  sin,  there  arc  those  high  in  the  Church  who 
will  aid  me.  Dost  thou  esteem  thyself  holier  than 
these  ? ' 

The  earl  leaned  forward  and  whispered  in  Theodred's 
ear  the  names  of  several  high  dignitaries  of  the  English 
Church,  including  several  abbots  and  bishops. 

Theodred  betrayed  great  astonishment. 

'  What  meanest  thou  ? '  lie  asked. 


48  JEST  AND  EARNEST. 

'  I  mean  that  there  is  more  in  this  matter  than  is  at 
present  understanded  of  thee,'  said  De  Guader.  '  Per- 
haps some  insight  into  my  own  standpoint  would  best 
help  thee  to  the  whole  question.' 

The  almoner  assumed  an  attitude  of  respectful 
attention. 

'  Thou  dost  me  great  honour,  noble  earl,'  he  said. 
*  Nevertheless  I  must  protest  that  as  a  simple  priest  I 
had  rather  keep  to  matters  more  within  my  province.' 

'  These  matters  must  be  within  thy  province,  since  thy 
guidance  will  be  asked  by  the  noble  demoiselle  whose 
part  in  them  is  of  such  import,'  urged  De  Guader ;  and 
the  priest  sighed  deeply,  for  he  had  a  great  love  for  the 
gentle  girl  whose  adviser  he  must  needs  be  in  this  the  chief 
step  of  her  young  life.  He  saw  nothing  but  strife  before 
her,  and  was  sorely  perplexed  as  to  whether  he  should 
forward  her  happiness,  or,  still  more,  her  spiritual  welfare, 
by  aiding  or  hindering  the  suit  of  the  turbulent  man  who 
was  thus  seeking  to  win  him  to  his  side,  and  whom  he 
scarcely  knew  whether  to  abhor  for  his  part  at  Senlac, 
or  to  love  as  the  son  of  Ralph  the  Staller.  Certes  De 
Guader's  show  of  contrition  had  strangely  moved  him, 
and  the  bruised  and  bleeding  patriotism  which  was  his 
strongest  passion  waked  into  painful  life  at  the  sight, 

*  Thou  knowest,'  said  Earl  Ralph,  '  how,  when  my 
noble  father,  Ralph  the  Staller,  died,  Earl  Godwin,  in 
his  hate  of  the  Normans,  or  any  from  across  the  straits, 
worked  with  the  blessed  King  Eadward  against  my 
Breton  mother  and  myself,  her  stripling  son,  or  rather, 
I    should    say,   so   wearied    him    out   with   complaints 


^JEST  AND  EARNEST.  49 

against  us,  made  by  his  daughter  Eadgytli,  the  king's  wife, 
that  at  last  the  good  king  gave  ear  to  a  trumped-up  story 
of  treasonable  practices  on  our  innocent  parts,  and  took 
my  father's  lands  from  his  widow  and  orphan,  so  that 
we  had  to  go  beyond  the  sea  to  my  mother's  estates  in 
Bretagne.' 

'  I  have  heard  a  version  of  the  matter,'  said  Theodred 
— 'somewhat  differing  ! '  he  added,  under  his  breath. 

'  Canst  thou  wonder,  then,  that  my  love  for  Harold 
Godwinsson  was  not  overflowing?  the  more  so  as  he 
claimed  for  himself  those  dear  lands  of  Norfolk  and 
Suffolk,  where  my  boyhood  had  been  passed.  Canst 
thou  wonder  that,  when  he  broke  his  oath  to  William  of 
Normandy,  whom  he  had  sworn  not  to  hinder  in  his 
claims  to  the  English  throne, — sworn,  as  thou  knowest, 
on  the  most  sacred  relics ' — 

Theodred  groaned.  '  Harold  knew  not  that  the  relics 
were  there  till  after  he  had  sworn,'  he  murmured. 

'An  Englishman's  word  should  be  as  good  as  his 
oath,  thou  hast  said  it,'  rejoined  the  carl.  '  Canst  thou 
wonder,  I  ask,  that  I  ranged  myself  under  the  banner  of 
the  leader  whose  accolade  had  given  me  knighthood  to 
win  back  those  lands  of  my  father's  ? ' 

'  How  couldst  thou  ?  How  couldst  thou  fight  thy 
father's  countrymen,  even  to  win  back  thy  father's 
lands?'  cried  the  priest,  with  irrepressible  emotion. 

Ralph  sprang  up  and  paced  about  the  room.     '  Nay, 

I  would  give  my  right  hand  I  had  not  done  it,'  he  said  ; 

'but,'  he  added   bitterly,   'I    am   sufficiently  punished! 

After  all  my  valour  and   manifold  services,  the  haughty 

D 


50  JEST  AND  EARNEST. 

Bastard  deems  mc  not  good  enough  to  become  his 
kinsman,  and  insults  me  by  forbidding  me  the  hand  of 
his  kinswoman.' 

His  face  was  dark  with  scorn,  and  the  peculiar  gleam 
of  green  was  in  his  eyes  which  gave  so  strange  an 
expression  to  his  anger,  while  the  level  brows  met  above 
them.  Evidently  wounded  pride  had  more  to  do  with 
his  repentance  than  patriotic  contrition. 

But  it  was  not  convenient  to  admit  so  much  even  to 
himself  '  Blood  is  stronger  than  water,  in  good  sooth,' 
he  continued,  '  and  my  father's  blood  rebels  in  my  veins 
when  I  see  the  hungry  Normans  ousting  staunch 
English  families  from  their  holdings,  and  revelling  in 
the  fat  of  the  land.  I  had  not  thought  of  all  that  must 
follow  the  setting  of  William  on  the  throne,  for  I  dreamt 
not  that  Harold's  following  had  been  so  strong,  or  that 
the  tussle  would  be  so  bitter.  And  now  that  William  is 
away,  the  curs  snuffle  and  snarl  and  tear  the  quarry  like 
hounds  without  a  huntsman,  while  Hereford  and  I, 
through  his  silly  jealousy,  have  our  hands  tied,  and  are 
powerless  to  keep  order  in  the  land.  I  tell  thee  it  is 
galling  beyond  endurance  to  see  the  base  churls,  whom 
never  a  knight  would  have  spoken  to  in  Normandy  but 
to  give  them  an  order,  ruffling  it  with  the  best,  and 
strutting  as  they  had  been  born  nobles,  lording  it 
over  high-born  English  dames  and  damsels,  whose  fathers 
and  husbands  they  have  slain,  and  whose  fortunes  they 
are  wasting  in  riot ! ' 

'  Galling  beyond  endurance ! '  repeated  Theodred, 
springing  up  with  a  gesture  of  anguish.     '  Christ  grant 


JEST  AND  EARNEST.  51 

me  pardon  for  the  hate  that  springeth  in  my  heart  for 
the  doers  of  such  wrong,  for  it  bids  fair  to  overflow  the 
barriers  of  my  control  whenever  I  let  my  thoughts 
wander  from  the  comfort  of  heavenly  things  to  earthly 
miseries ! ' 

De  Guader's  eyes  gleamed  with  triumph  as  he  saw 
his  companion  so  deeply  moved.  Stopping  in  his  tiger 
walk  up  and  down  the  room,  he  laid  his  strong  hand 
upon  Theodred's  arm. 

'  Then  help  me  to  redress  the  v/rong  and  repair  the 
mistake  ! '  he  said. 

Theodred  turned  on  him  fiercely.  '  Repair  the 
mistake !  Canst  thou  bring  then  the  dead  to  life,  or 
gather  from  the  soil  one  drop  of  the  noble  blood  that 
has  been  poured  forth  upon  it  like  water,  the  dark  stains 
of  which  still  scare  the  traveller,  and  call  to  Heaven  for 
vengeance  ? ' 

'  Nay,  St.  Nicholas  defend  me ! '  answered  the  earl, 
*  I  can  do  neither  of  these  things.  There  is  that  which 
cannot  be  undone,  and  can  only  be  atoned  by  bitter 
penance  and  humble  contrition.  But  there  is  that 
which  may  be  restored.  Ruined  men  may  have  their 
own  acrain.  Prisoners  can  be  set  free.  Doth  not 
Archbishop  Stigand  still  languish  in  durance?  Is  not 
thine  own  beloved  bishop  and  Stigand's  brother, 
.^thclmrer,  living  in  poverty  and  shame,  since  William's 
tyrannical  deprivation  of  his  sec  on  false  and  scandalous 
charges  ? ' 

'  Alas,  yes  ! '  admitted  the  priest. 

Then  the  earl,  bending  towards  him,  and   fixing  his 


52  JEST  AND  EARNEST. 

piercing  eyes  on  the  good-humoured  and  yielding  eyes 
of  Theodred,  said  in  a  low,  clear  voice,  every  syllable  of 
every  word  thrilling  the  silent  night, — 

'  An  English  king  may  yet  fill  the  throne.  Waltheof 
Siwardsson  lives ! ' 

Theodred  covered  his  face  with  his  hands,  and 
staggered  into  his  chair.  After  a  while  he  murmured, 
'  And  doth  the  holy  Frithic,  Abbot  of  St.  Albans,  favour 
this,  and  Thurstan,  Abbot  of  Ely  ? ' 

'  Ay ;  nor  is  Fitzosbern,  Bishop  of  Exeter,  opposed. 
He  groans  for  the  woes  of  the  English  people,  whose 
ways  he  has  always  loved,  and  whose  manners  he  has 
adopted;  neither  brooks  he  tamely  this  insult  of  William's 
to  his  nephew.     When  such  favour  me,  wilt  not  thou  ? ' 

Theodred  extended  his  palm  without  uncovering  his 
face.  '  I  cannot  answer  thee  thus  at  a  moment's  notice. 
The  issues  are  too  great.' 

'  Waltheof,  Hereford,  and  I,'  the  earl  continued,  his 
face  lighted  with  a  lofty  pride,  and  his  gesture  such  as 
might  have  befitted  the  Conqueror  himself,  'William 
absent.     Who  could  withstand  our  combination  ? ' 

'  I  pray  thee  mercy  !  This  matter  needeth  meditation 
and  prayer.  Leave  me.  Whether  I  help  or  hinder  thee, 
be  sure  I  will  not  betray  thee.  The  Holy  Virgin  have 
both  thee  and  me  in  her  keeping  ! ' 

'  Amen,'  said  the  earl,  and  left  the  apartment.  As  he 
walked  down  the  passage,  stepping  softly  lest  he  should 
disturb  those  who  had  slumbered  while  he  plotted,  he 
heard  the  strokes  of  the  flagellum  with  which  Father 
Theodred  was  lacerating  his  shoulders 


CHAPTER  IV. 

HORSE,   HAWK,  AND   HOUND. 

On  the  morrow,  a  goodly  company  rode  forth  over  the 
drawbridges  of  Hereford  Castle,  with  clatter  of  prancing 
horses  and  barking  of  dogs  and  jingle  of  hawks' 
jesses ;  falconers  carrying  the  birds,  and  huntsmen 
leading  the  well  -  trained  dogs,  spaniels,  cockers,  and 
here  and  there  a  wolf  or  boar  hound,  in  case  larger 
game  should  be  started ;  a  party  of  men-at-arms  to 
protect  them  from  wild  beasts,  outlaws,  and  Welsh,  with 
a  few  knights  in  harness  to  head  them,  and  the  ladies 
and  gentlemen  of  the  hunt  themselves. 

In  the  place  of  honour  amongst  these  rode  the  Earl 
of  East  Anglia,  mounted  on  his  splendid  Spanish  barb 
Oliver,  whose  fine  points  had  drawn  forth  praise  from 
that  lover  of  good  horse-flesh,  William  the  Conqueror 
himself,  when  De  Guader  had  ridden  the  steed  in  his 
presence ;  a  bright  red-roan  with  fox-coloured  mane  and 
tail,  fine  of  limb,  but  of  greater  strength  and  endurance 
than  the  heavier  Norman  warhorse,  and  full  of  spirit  and 
docility. 

By  his  side  ambled   Emma   Fitzosbern,  on   a   white 

palfrey,  bearing  on   her  wrist  a  noble  '  tassel  -  gentle,' 

r.3 


54  HORSE,  HAWK,  AND  HOUND. 

whose  broad  shoulders  and  large  nares  and  long  black 
spurs  proclaimed  him  of  the  bluest  blood  of  hawk 
aristocracy. 

'  Certes,  he  is  a  glorious  tierce,'  said  Emma,  looking 
with  admiration  at  the  hawk,  '  and  seemeth  well  re- 
claimed, though,  knowing  me  not,  he  is  by  nature 
shy.' 

'  I  hope  well  he  may  sustain  the  reputation  accorded 
him  by  those  from  whom  I  had  him,'  said  the  earl,  'and 
prove  his  worth  by  deeds  when  we  reach  the  waters. 
He  comes  straight  from  Denmark,  and  is  accounted 
equal  to  any  King  Sweyn  at  present  hath  in  his  mews. 
He  will  bind  a  mallard  with  his  beak,  nor  needeth  he 
any  lure  save  the  voice  of  the  falconer.  None  exceed 
the  Danes  for  skill  in  training  a  hawk.' 

The  Earl  of  Hereford,  who  had  been  riding  ahead 
with  his  countess,  fell  back  and  reined  his  horse  beside 
his  sister's  palfrey,  that  he  might  examine  and  criticise 
this  much-extolled  bird.  But  his  criticism  also  took  the 
form  of  admiration. 

'If  he  performs  as  well  as  he  looks,'  quoth  he,  'I 
would  think  him  cheap  at  a  hundred  marks.' 

When  they  reached  the  marshy  ground  to  north- 
west the  castle,  at  which  they  had  been  aiming,  the 
spaniels  soon  put  up  a  heronshaw,  and  Emma,  who  had 
no  mean  skill  at  falconry,  slipped  off  the  hood  from  the 
Danish  hawk,  and  cast  him  deftly  from  her  little  fist 
into  the  air  at  what  was  called  'i}c\Q^jette  serve,  that  is  to 
say,  as  quickly  after  the  quarry  had  taken  flight  as 
possible. 


HORSE,  HAWK,  AND  HOUND.  55 

The  heron  soared  into  the  an-  on  his  strong  wings, 
with  his  slender  legs  stretched  straight  behind  him,  till 
he  was  almost  lost  in  the  clouds,  but  the  tassel-gentle 
pursued  him  swiftly,  scaling  the  air  by  small  circles 
ascending  higher  and  higher  like  the  steps  of  a  spiral 
staircase. 

Emma  clapped  her  hands  in  delight. 

'  By  the  mass !  a  magnificent  mount ! '  exclaimed 
Hereford,  and  his  praise  was  echoed  amongst  the  ladies 
and  gentlemen  round,  nor  did  the  falconers  refuse  their 
meed  of  honour  to  the  foreign  bird,  jealous  though  they 
might  be  for  the  fame  of  their  own  particular  pets, 
whom  they  had  tended  since  they  took  them  from  the 
eyrie  at  the  stage  of  cyass-down,  and  lured  and  re- 
claimed with  daily  care  and  patient  skill. 

'  The  tassel-gentle  hath  the  uppermost,'  cried  Emma, 
after  a  few  seconds  of  eager  watching. 

'  Thine  eyes  are  as  keen  as  the  hawk's  ! '  cried  De 
Guader.  'At  that  height  I  could  not  tell  one  from  the 
other.' 

But  Emma  saw  truly.  In  a  moment  more  the  tassel- 
gentle  stooped  upon  his  quarry,  and  the  struggling  birds 
came  tumbling  from  the  sky  together,  leaving  a  long 
trail  of  fluttering  feathers  to  mark  the  course  of  their 
passage  through  the  air. 

Hereford  pressed  forward  to  the  spot  at  which  they 
promised  to  touch  earth,  and  was  ready  to  despatch  the 
heron  ere  he  could  do  mischief  with  his  long  wings, 
measuring  upwards  of  five  feet  from  tip  to  tip.  He 
shook  the  hawk's  hood,  and  the  well-trained  bird   flew 


56  HORSE,  HAWK,  AND  HOUND. 

at  once  upon  his  wrist.  Bravely  had  he  maintained  his 
reputation  by  deeds. 

Other  hawks  were  then  flown  at  various  game, 
mallard  and  crane  and  bittern.  Sometimes  the  quarry 
escaped ;  on  one  occasion  a  falcon  failed  to  win  the 
upper  hand,  and  the  heron  at  which  she  was  cast  trans- 
fixed her  on  his  long  beak  and  killed  her,  at  which 
misfortune  there  was  much  ado.  Others  acquitted  them- 
selves well,  but  none  rivalled  the  prowess  of  the  Danish 
hawk,  and  when  the  gay  company  had  turned  their 
horses'  heads  homewards,  and  had  leisure  to  discuss  the 
matter,  he  was  acclaimed  by  all  the  hero  of  the  day  in 
falcon-world. 

'  Since  thou  hast  a  good  opinion  of  the  tassel-gentle,' 
said  De  Guader,  who  had  reined  his  horse  again  to  the 
side  of  Emma's  palfrey,  'and  art  pleased  to  say  that  I 
gave  no  overdrawn  picture  of  his  high  qualities,  I  pray 
thee,  noble  demoiselle,  to  pleasure  me  by  taking  him 
for  thine  own  from  this  day  forward  ;  for,  in  sooth,  I 
obtained  him  from  Denmark  for  no  other  purpose, 
having  heard  of  the  death  of  thy  favourite  falcon.  See, 
he  takes  to  thee  by  instinct,  and  sits  thy  slender  wrist 
as  if  he  knew  it  as  that  of  his  own  lady.' 

'  Thou  art  too  generous,  Sir  Earl,'  replied  Emma,  the 
quick  blood  flushing  cheek  and  forehead, — partly  through 
delight,  for  she  was  a  keen  huntress,  and  appreciated 
fully  the  joys  of  possessing  such  a  bird  ;  but  more 
through  confusion,  for  she  felt  that  she  could  not  accept 
such  a  gift  from  a  suitor  whom  she  intended  to  reject, 
and  that  virtually  to  take  the  beautiful  creature  would 


HORSE,  HAWK,  AND  HOUND.  57 

be  to  answer  Ralph's  weighty  question  of  the  night 
before — for  in  those  days  a  good  hawk  was  of  more 
value  than  diamonds.  To  make  matters  worse,  her 
brother  was  watching  her  pitilessly,  with  a  quizzical 
smile  in  his  eyes,  and  evident  curiosity  as  to  what  she 
would  say. 

But  fortune  was  kinder  than  her  friends.  The  com- 
pany was  riding  at  the  moment  through  a  belt  of 
woodland,  and,  just  as  Emma  was  casting  about  in  her 
mind  for  an  answer  to  Ralph's  speech  that  might  post- 
pone her  difficulty,  and  toying  somewhat  lovingly  with 
the  bird,  a  lank  grey  beast  trotted  silently  across  the 
pathway  a  few  yards  ahead  of  the  foremost  horse- 
man. 

The  dogs  gave  tongue  and  the  men  also. 

'Wolf!  wolf!'  cried  the  huntsmen,  and  half-a-dozen 
knights  of  the  meinie  who  carried  hauberk  and  lance 
dashed  forward  in  pursuit. 

All  was  excitement  and  commotion.  Steeds  chafed 
and  curveted,  and  kept  their  riders  from  requiring 
answers  to  inconvenient  questions,  and  Kmma  Fitzo.sbern 
felt  grateful  exceedingly  to  the  fiery  Oliver  for  the 
trouble  he  gave  his  master,  and  the  excuse  which  his 
antics  afforded  her  to  slip  behind  to  the  side  of  her 
bower- maiden,  Eadgyth  of  Norwich,  who  was  follow- 
ing on  a  sober-minded  brown  palfrey,  being  but  an 
indifferent  horsewoman,  and  alwa)-s  desirous  of  a  quiet 
mount. 

De  Guadcr  gave  Oliver  the  rein  and  galloped  for- 
ward. 


58  HORSE,  HAWK,  AND  HOUND. 

'  I  am  in  sore  distress,  Emma,'  said  Eadgyth,  as 
she  joined  her,  'for  my  foolish  Freya  has  rushed  off 
after  the  rest  of  them,  as  if  a  gazehound  could  pull 
down  a  wolf,  forsooth !  I  much  fear  me  she  will  be 
hurt.' 

Almost  as  she  spoke,  the  knights  returned,  one  hold- 
ing aloft  the  wolfs  head  as  a  trophy  ;  but  another,  a 
young  Norman  in  De  Guader's  following,  Sir  Aimand 
de  Sourdeval  by  name,  carried  a  wounded  hound  in  his 
arms. 

'  It  is  Fre}'a  ! '  exclaimed  Eadgyth,  and,  riding  forward 
towards  the  knight,  she  asked  if  her  favourite  was  much 
wounded. 

'  Nothing  dangerously,  sweet  donzelle,'  replied  Sir 
Aimand,  looking  up  with  a  bright  smile,  and  evidently 
pleased  to  have  so  cheerful  an  answer  to  give,  both  for 
the  hound's  sake  and  the  lady's.  'A  bite  in  the  forearm, 
nothing  worse,  though  it  lames  her.  I  will  bind  it, 
with  your  permission,  when  we  reach  the  castle  ;  I  have 
a  salve  reckoned  most  healing  for  the  wounds  of  hounds, 
and  I  hope  it  may  prove  its  worth  in  the  healing  of 
thine.' 

Eadgyth  thanked  the  young  knight  for  his  courtesy 
with  much  sincerity,  for  she  had  brought  up  the  grey- 
hound to  her  own  hand,  and  the  creature  was  full  of 
gentle  ways  and  pretty  tricks,  which  her  mistress  had 
taught  her,  besides  being  exceptionally  beautiful,  with 
a  satin  skin  as  white  as  milk  and  a  body  as  lithe  as 
any  eel's. 

It  was  a  great  relief  to  Eadgyth  also  to  note  how 


HORSE,  HAWK,  AND  HOUND.  59 

tenderly  Sir  Aimand  handled  her  favourite,  so  that  the 
hound  lay  quite  passive  in  his  hold,  and  she  felt  content 
to  leave  her  to  the  knight's  tender  mercies. 

When  they  reached  the  castle,  Emma  Fitzosbern 
found  herself  still  carrying  the  tassel-gentle  on  her 
wrist,  and  thought  with  a  half  sigh  that  it  would  be 
hard  to  relinquish  him,  even  if  she  were  quite  prepared 
to  renounce  all  that  she  must  take  with  him.  Nor  did 
De  Guader  give  her  opportunity  to  restore  the  bird  to 
his  keeping. 

Later  in  the  day,  when  the  May  sun  was  drawing  nigh 
to  the  summits  of  the  Welsh  hills,  Emma,  her  riding 
garb  exchanged  for  a  silken  robe  of  pale  blue,  embroidered 
with  pearls  and  silver  and  edged  with  vair,  very  brave  to 
look  upon,  svv^ept  down  the  long  alleys  that  led  from  the 
ladies'  bovver  to  the  orchard,  in  company  with  her  young 
sister-in-law,  the  Countess  of  Hereford,  and  Dame 
Amicia  de  Reviers,  a  venerable  lady,  who  had  been 
Emma's  'guide,  philosopher,  and  governante'  since  the 
daughter  of  Fitzosbern  had  first  opened  her  grey-blue 
eyes  upon  this  wicked  world,  and  who  now  found  her 
aged  infirmity  soothed  by  the  lo\c  and  trust  of  her 
whilom  pupil. 

Hereford  is,  and  was,  a  famous  apple  country,  and  in 
those  days  it  was  celebrated  for  both  cider  and  grape 
wine.  Just  then,  in  the  sweet  spring  weather,  the 
orchard  was  a  pleasant  i)lace  in  which  to  while  away  an 
hour.  The  insecurity  of  life  making  the  protection  of 
stone  walls  imperative,  prevented  any  extensive  cultiva- 
tion of  garden  flowers,  and  gardens  within  castle  precincts 


6o  HORSE,,  HAWK.  AND  HOUND. 

were  necessarily  circumscribed.  But  the  orchard  was 
somewhat  more  free,  though  lofty  walls  surrounded  it, 
over  which  the  trained  branches  of  the  vines  spread  in 
orderly  growth,  and  were  putting  forth  tufts  of  tender 
bronze  -  green  leaves  at  every  spur.  Gillyflowers 
bloomed  between  their  roots,  and  their  wild  yellow 
brothers  found  space  for  their  impudent  needs  on  the 
crown  of  the  walls.  Across  the  centre  of  the  orchard 
ran  a  chattering  brook,  along  the  banks  of  which 
kingcups  made  a  golden  line,  and  over  which  a  little 
bridge  with  toy  battlements  was  built.  The  pear  trees 
were  covered  with  snow-white  flowers  and  the  apples 
with  rosy  buds,  and  under  the  netted  shadows  of  their 
straggling  boughs  the  rich  green  turf  was  gemmed  with 
primroses  and  daisies  and  buttercups  ;  while  merles  and 
mavises  sat_^amongst  the  blossoms,  striving  which  should 
sing  the  sweetest  songs.  From  the  meadows  and 
pastures  beyond  the  walls  came  the  lowing  of  cows  and 
the  mellow  voice  of  the  cuckoo. 

Emma  carried  the  tassel-gentle  on  her  wrist,  and  a 
page  followed  her  with  a  lure  and  dainty  morsels  where- 
with to  tempt  the  proud  bird's  appetite  ;  and  when  the 
countess  and  Dame  Amicia  sat  down  upon  a  bench  in  a 
small  arbour  near  the  stream,  she  went  forward  to  the 
bridge,  and  bade  the  page  set  down  his  burden  upon  the 
wall.  Then,  leaning  on  the  parapet,  she  amused  herself 
by  casting  off  the  bird  for  short  flights,  and  luring  him 
back,  teaching  him  to  recognise  the  sound  of  her  voice. 
The  other  ladies,  who  were  in  view  of  the  performance, 
applauded  when  he  obeyed  her  quickly. 


HORSE,  HAWK,  AND  HOUND.  •         6i 

Yet  Emma  had  not  fully  accepted  the  gift  of  the  bird, 
or  decided  what  her  course  should  be.  She  was  in  great 
perplexity.  In  the  morning,  jubilant  with  exercise,  the 
glow  and  excitement  of  the  chase  upon  her,  all  difficulties 
had  seemed  light  save  that  of  renunciation,  and  the 
qualified  permission  which  Father  Theodred  had  given 
her,  to  follow  her  own  heart  in  the  matter,  seemed 
to  move  all  obstacles  from  her  path.  Now,  in  cooler 
mood,  her  anxious  spirit  conjured  up  visions  of 
distress. 

To  defy  the  king  was  both  sinful  and  dangerous.  If 
she  dwelt  more  on  the  danger  than  the  sin,  she  must  not 
be  judged  by  the  standard  of  later  days.  The  idea  of 
kingly  divinity  had  scarcely  blossomed  into  flower  in 
the  chaos  of  those  dark  ages.  Every  powerful  noble 
was  a  sovereign  on  his  own  estate,  and  his  followers 
fought  his  battles  with  little  scruple  whether  against  king 
or  peer.  The  feudal  king-lord  was  but  first  among 
peers,  and  very  few  noble  houses  could  display  a 
scutcheon  free  from  the  blot  of  treason. 

Vows  of  fealty  and  the  sanctity  of  knightly  honour 
notwithstanding,  the  turbulent  barons  thought  less  of  it 
than  a  modern  politician  of  changing  his  party.  Indeed, 
they  watched  all  kingly  encroachments  on  the  power  of 
their  order  with  jealous  eyes,  and  deemed  it  a  duty  to 
stand  by  each  other.  Not  till  Warwick, '  the  Kingmaker,' 
was  laid  low  on  Barnet  field,  did  the  kingly  ideal  become 
paramount. 

So  Emma  thought  more  of  the  blood  that  would  flow 
if  William  were  defied,  than  of  the  heinousness  of  the 


62  HORSE,  HAWK,  AND  HOUND. 

defiance.  Earl  Ralph  and  her  brother  would  both  be 
involved  in  trouble  and  sorrow.  And  all  for  her  foolish 
face !  Oh,  why  had  she  not  been  born  some  plain, 
poor  damsel,  over  whose  fate  none  would  concern 
themselves  ? 

She  would  not  be  a  centre  of  strife  and  confusion  ! 
No,  she  would  retire  into  a  convent  and  lead  a  life  of 
penitence  and  prayer ;  and  Ralph  would  find  another 
bride  whom  William  would  not  grudge  him. 

But  this  pious  resolution  was  accompanied  by  a  deep 
sigh,  and  a  look  of  wistful  longing  at  the  hawk,  as  he 
came  fluttering  his  strong,  sharp-pointed  wings  to  her 
call.  Perhaps  he  typified  worldly  joys  to  her  at  the 
moment. 

Just  then  two  goodly  gentlemen  came  striding  across 
the  greensward  to  the  arbour  by  the  bridge,  and  Emma's 
heart  gave  a  great  leap,  for  she  felt  that  the  time  had 
come  when,  for  weal  or  woe,  she  must  make  her  choice. 

And  the  Earl  of  Hereford  went  into  the  arbour  and 
sat  down  by  his  wife,  but  the  Earl  of  East  Anglia  came 
straight  on  to  the  bridge  where  Emma  stood.  '  The 
tassel-gentle  acknowledges  the  authority  of  his  own  liege 
lady,'  Ralph  said,  with  a  meaning  smile,  as  he  stopped 
beside  her  and  leaned  his  arm  on  the  low  parapet  of  the 
little  bridge. 

'  I  fear  he  learned  not  his  loyalty  from  his  master,' 
Emma  replied,  looking  in  his  face  with  earnest  eyes. 

'  Nay,  flout  me  not,  dear  lady,'  pleaded  De  Guader. 
'  Give  me  an  answer  to  my  question  of  yesternight.  It 
is  not  like  thee  to  prolong  my  torture.' 


Emma  FitzUsbcrii  accepts  tlie  Tassel-geuUe. 


HORSE,  HAWK,  AND  HOUND.  63 

'  Indeed,  I  know  not  what  to  answer  thee,'  said  Emma 
in  sad  seriousness.  '  My  heart  is  torn  with  doubt.  I 
cannot  bear,'  she  said,  laying  her  hand  upon  his  arm,  as 
if  to  restrain  his  eagerness  for  combat,  '  to  be  the  cause 
of  strife.  And  strife  it  must  mean,  if  thou  shouldst 
marry  me  against  the  king's  will.  William  is  not  the 
man  to  take  such  defiance  smoothly.' 

'  Nor  am  I,  nor  is  Hereford,  the  man  to  take  his  insult 
smoothly,'  answered  Ralph,  with  blazing  eyes.  '  See'st 
thou  not,  the  strife  must  be  ?  The  insult  is  given,  and 
can  only  be  wiped  out  with  blood  ! ' 

'Ah!' 

'  See'st  thou  not,  my  dove,'  asked  De  Guader,  taking 
the  hand  she  had  laid  upon  his  arm  in  both  his  own, 
'  thy  decision  has  nought  to  do  with  the  strife?  Indeed, 
thy  refusal  to  have  me  now  would  but  make  mine  anger 
against  William  the  more  bitter,  as  I  shall  in  that  case 
owe  him  the  loss  of  my  happiness  as  well  as  the  affront 
to  mine  honour.  No,  the  point  is  this  :  I  cannot  urge 
thee  to  share  strife  and  sorrow  with  mc,  though,'  and  his 
eyes  flashed  fresh  fires,  'the  saints  might  favour  me 
that  I  won  thee  but  higher  honours  in  the  end.  If  thy 
heart  fails  thee,  Hereford  will  send  thee  over-sea  to  thy 
brother  in  Normandy,  where  thou  canst  dwell  in  peace 
and  safety,  while  we  fight  our  quarrel  out.  Fight  it  out 
we  must !  'Tis  not  William's  first  insult,  but  it  shall  be 
his  last.' 

'  Nay,  if  I  cannot  stay  the  strife,  I  will  share  it ! '  cried 
Emma,  touched  to  the  quick.  *  Thou  dost  me  wrong  to 
deem,  even  for  an   instant,  that  I  shrink   for   my  own 


64  HORSE,  HAWK,  AND  HOUND. 

welfare's  sake  !  'Tis  not  in  the  nature  of  a  Fitzosbcrn  ! ' 
Then,  turning  to  the  hawk,  she  said,  '  Thou  may'st  know 
me  for  thy  liege  lady,  my  brave  tassel-gentle !  I  take 
thee,  and  thy  master  with  thee,  but  I  fear  he  is  by  far 
less  well  reclaimed  than  thee  ! ' 


CHAPTER  V. 

SAXON   AND   NORMAN. 

The  little  village  of  Exning  in  Suffolk  was  once  an  Im- 
portant place,  the  seat  of  the  royal  palace  of  the  kings 
and  queens  of  East  Anglia,  wherein  was  born  the  cele- 
brated St.  Etheldreda,  who  was  the  foundress  of  the 
monastery  of  Ely ;  and  its  state  did  not  entirely  dis- 
appear till  A.D.  1200,  when  a  plague  broke  out  which 
desolated  the  population,  and  a  New  Market  was  set  up 
a  few  miles  from  it,  which  still  bears  that  name,  and  is 
the  well-known  racing  centre. 

Ralph  de  Guader,  as  Earl  of  East  Anglia,  became  the 
lord  of  this  ancient  palace  of  the  East  Anglian  royal 
family,  and,  as  it  was  in  his  day  the  fashion  for  weddings 
to  take  place  at  the  house  of  the  bridegroom,  it  was  here 
that  preparations  were  made  for  his  union  with  Emma 
Fitzosbern. 

It  was  in  every  way  convenient  for  Ralph's  purposes. 

Situated  on  the  extreme  verge  of  his  estates,  jutting  out 

towards  the  west,  whence  his  bride  must  come,  it  was 

the  very  nearest  point   at   which  she  could    enter   his 

domain  ;  near" also  to  Northampton  and   Huntingdon, 

over   which   Walthcof  Siwardsson  was  carl,    regarding 

!■: 


66  SAXON  AND  NORMAN. 

whom,  as  we  know,  De  Guader  had  deep-laid  schemes. 
The  celebrity  it  bore  as  the  time-honoured  residence  of 
the  East  Anglian  royalty,  and  the  birthplace  of  one  of 
the  best-beloved  of  Saxon  saints,  endeared  it  to  the 
hearts  of  the  Saxon  nobles  and  thegns,  whom  it  was 
Ralph's  policy  to  conciliate,  and  of  whom  he  had  invited 
to  the  banquet  all  who  still  possessed  any  remnant  of 
their  former  wealth,  and  many  who  had  little  left  but 
names  to  conjure  with. 

Divers  Breton  nobles  and  knights  also  held  manors  in 
the  neighbourhood,  and  De  Guader  had  in  his  own 
following  a  strong  body  of  Breton  mercenaries,  and  took 
care  to  bid  the  leading  men  amongst  them,  and  all  he 
could  gather  of  his  mother's  countrymen  having  settle- 
ments in  England,  to  the  feast.  Many  Normans  also 
were  invited,  men  who  were  known  to  be  discontented 
with  their  share  of  the  spoil  of  fair  lands  and  deer 
forests  and  riches  of  various  kinds  distributed  after  the 
Conquest,  or  who,  like  De  Guader  and  Hereford,  were 
smarting  under  William's  tyrannous  whims.  Last,  but 
most  important  amongst  the  guests,  were  the  members 
of  the  Saxon  Church,  many  of  whom  came  to  the  bridal, 
including  several  of  the  high  positions  of  bishop  and 
abbot. 

Only  the  highest  in  rank  of  such  a  large  assembly 
could  be  sheltered  under  the  roof  of  the  palace,  built 
though  it  had  been  to  suit  Anglo  -  Saxon  notions  of 
hospitality,  which  were  on  a  bounteous  scale. 

The  knights  and  thegns  of  humbler  degree  were 
encamped  in  the  neighbourhood  in  every  variety  of  tent 


SAXON  AND  NORMAN.  67 

and  hut  that  would  serve  for  temporary  shelter,  while 
each  noble  or  chief  brought  with  him  a  goodly  train  of 
house-carles,  squires,  and  pages,  and  a  motley  following 
of  attendants  and  grooms,  with  horses  and  hounds  and 
sumpter  mules  laden  with  baggage.  For  miles  around 
the  air  was  rent  with  the  neighing  of  horses  and  shout- 
ing of  men,  the  barking  of  dogs  and  clashing  of  arms, 
and  the  braying  of  trumpets,  while  above  each  gay  tent 
floated  a  silken  banner  bearing  the  arms  of  the  occupant, 
or,  at  least,  tall  lances  stuck  in  the  ground  beside  it 
fluttered  their  pennoncelles  around  it.  All  was  merry 
clamour  and  confusion,  and  doubtless  Newmarket  Heath 
itself  was  as  gay  as  it  now  is  on  the  morning  of  the 
Two  Thousand  Guineas. 

The  East  Anglian  earl  had  elected  to  have  the 
festivities  arranged  according  to  Saxon  fashions.  Never- 
theless, he  had  endeavoured  to  satisfy  the  tastes  of  all 
his  guests,  and  a  variety  of  entertainments  was  provided. 
A  magnificent  pavilion  had  been  erected  for  the  many 
who  could  not  be  accommodated  with  seats  in  the 
banqueting-hall  of  the  palace,  over  which  waved  richly- 
coloured  flags  embroidered  with  the  arms  of  the  three 
great  earls, — the  azure  lion  rampant  which  Waltheof 
had  assumed  as  his  emblem,  the  red,  blue,  and  golden 
arms  of  Hereford,  and  De  Guader's  own  cognisance, 
party  per  pale  or  and  sable,  with  a  bend  vairy. 

To  one  side  of  it  were  spacious  lists  hung  with  scarlet 
cloth,  one  hundred  yards  long  by  forty  broad,  having 
benches  for  spectators  in  tiers  along  the  length  of  the 
barriers,  and  in  the  centre,  on  each  side,  a  canopy,  one 


68  SAXON  AND  NORMAN. 

destined  for  the  three  earls,  who  were  to  be  judges  of  the 
combat,  the  other  for  Emma  Fitzosbern, — from  whose 
hands  as  Queen  of  Beauty  the  victors  were  to  receive 
their  prizes, — the  noble  ladies  who  were  her  guests,  and 
the  maidens  of  her  train.  The  tourney  was  to  take  place 
a  full  day  before  the  wedding,  so  that  the  combatants 
might  be  rested,  and  fit  for  the  labour  of  feasting.  The 
combats  were  in  no  case  to  be  a  outrance,  but  merely  a 
trial  of  strength  and  skill. 

On  the  opposite  side  of  the  pavilion  a  large  space  of 
ground  was  marked  out  for  sports  of  a  less  aristocratic 
character,  and  set  with  targets  for  archery,  a  quintain, — 
not  the  knightly  quintain  supplied  with  a  full  suit  of 
good  armour,  such  as  chivalric  aspirants  tried  their  skill 
on,  the  providing  of  which  was  a  serious  item  in  the 
expenses  of  a  feudal  castle,  but  a  mere  ring  and  sand- 
bag,— leaping  bars,  racecourses  both  for  horse  and  foot 
racing,  a  bear-pit,  and  other  sports  to  please  the  various 
tastes  of  the  soldiery, — the  socmen  or  tenants  holding 
land  by  service  other  than  knightly, — the  bordars  or 
cottagers  holding  portions  of  land  on  condition  of 
supplying  the  lord  of  the  manor  with  poultry,  eggs,  and 
other  small  provisions, — and  such  other  freemen  as  De 
Guader  deemed  it  well  to  conciliate. 

A  richly-decked  bower  had  been  prepared  for  Emma 
Fitzosbern  in  the  old  Anglo-Saxon  palace,  and  in  this 
she  sat  with  her  favourite,  Eadgyth  of  Norwich,  on  the 
evening  of  their  arrival  at  Exning.  Eadgyth  was  to  be 
her  chief  bridemaid,  and  the  policy  of  the  bridegroom 
was    not   ill-served  by  this  honour  paid  to  the  relative 


■?■' 


SAXON  AND  NORMAN.  69 

of  the  great  English  earl.  Emma's  face  was  radiant 
with  happiness,  for  she  loved  Ralph  de  Guader  deeply, 
and  her  buoyant  disposition  did  not  tempt  her  to  meet 
difficulties  half  way ;  so  she  was  able  to  throw  to  the 
winds  all  foreboding  as  to  sinister  results  from  the  bold 
step  she  and  her  bridegroom  were  about  to  take  in 
opposing  the  Conqueror's  will. 

Eadgyth,  however,  though  evidently  trying  to  be  as 
gay  as  beseemed  the  occasion,  was  unable  to  hide  from 
Emma's  quick  eyes  the  fact  that  she  was  herself  in  low 
spirits,  betrayed  by  a  tinge  of  sadness  in  her  tone,  and 
half-stifled  sighs  that  would  make  way  between  her 
merry  speeches. 

'  Eadgyth,  something  hath  vexed  thee,'  said  Emma 
earnestly.  'Be  frank  with  mc,  and  tell  me  thy  sorrow, 
by  the  memory  of  the  freedom  with  which  I  have 
reposed  my  woes  with  thee.' 

'  Nay,'  replied  Eadgyth,  with  a  forced  smile,  a  faint 
one,  it  must  be  said,  like  December  sunshine,  'it  would 
be  a  sin  to  talk  to  thee  of  sorrow  on  thy  bridal  eve.' 

Thou  canst  not  hide  it,  Eadgyth  ;  thou  wouldst  do 
more  kindly  to  tell  me  all.' 

'  Thou  knowcst  the  young  knight,  Sir  Aimand  de 
Sourdeval,  who  rides  in  thy  bridgeroom's  meinief^  said 
Eadgyth  in  a  low  hesitating  tone. 

She  had  taken  Emma's  hand  in  her  own,  and  was 
twisting  the  betrothal  ring  wliich  circled  the  slender 
third  finger  round  and  round,  but,  though  her  face  was 
averted,  her  white  neck  and  forehead  grew  pink  under 
Emma's  gaze. 


70  SAXON  AND  NORMAN. 

*A  gallant  knight  and  of  good  lineage,' said  Emma 
quietly.  '  My  brother  said  but  the  other  day  that  he 
counted  him  amongst  the  best  lances  he  knows.' 

'  Thou  wilt  remember  he  rescued  my  poor  gazehound 
Freya  from  the  fangs  of  the  wolf  the  day  thy  Danish 
hawk  was  first  flown,  and  leeched  her  tenderly  after, 
even  using  on  her  a  talisman  which  had  been  given  to 
him  by  a  holy  palmer  from  the  East,  nursing  the  poor 
beast  as  gently  as  if  she  had  been  a  human  child.' 

*  'Tis  a  good  sign  in  a  man  to  show  tenderness  to  the 
poor  beasts  who  cannot  make  their  wrongs  public,'  said 
Emma.  '  He  who  will  suffer  inconvenience  to  save  a 
beast  pain,  will  not  do  less  for  weak  women  or  feeble 
children  that  come  under  his  charge.' 

Eadgyth  looked  up  with  sparkling  agreement  in  her 
eyes,  but  bent  her  head  again  as  she  continued, — 

'  This  evening,  as  we  drew  near  the  goal  of  our  journey, 
he  took  advantage  of  his  duty  as  escort  to  ride  his 
destrier  close  to  the  side  of  my  palfrey,  and  asked  me 
what  colours  I  meant  to  wear  at  the  tourney,  and  to  give 
him  a  favour  to  wear  in  his  helm,  with  many  compli- 
ments, saying  my  good  renown  was  such  that  the  noble 
Godfrey  de  Bouillon  himself  would  not  disdain  to  break 
a  lance  in  my  honour.' 

'And  what  was  thine  answer,  sweet  friend?'  asked 
Emma.  '  I  know  not  what  in  this  can  find  thee  food 
for  grief 

Eadgyth  continued  in  a  grave  and  measured  voice, — 

*  I  thanked  him  that  he  should  do  me  such  compli- 
ment, and  said  I  doubted  not  his  lance  and  sword  would 


SAXON  AND  NORMAN.  71 

well  defend  my  favour,  being  plied  by  a  God-fearing 
knight,  and  in  the  cause  of  a  maiden  who  hath  nought 
to  conceal ;  but  I  could  give  no  favour,  for  I  had  ever 
held  that  she  who  lets  a  good  man  risk  life  and  limb  in 
her  service,  should  be  ready  to  guerdon  the  victor,  and 
that  I  could  not  do.' 

'  Now,  Eadgyth,  why  shouldst  thou  have  given  such 
an  answer?'  asked  Emma  vehemently.  'Read  me  thy 
riddle,  I  pray  thee,  for,  in  good  sooth,  I  deem  not  thou 
hast  the  knight  in  ill-favour.' 

'  Surely  the  riddle  is  plain  to  read,'  answered  Eadgyth, 
'  and  thou  shouldcst  know  enough  of  my  mind  to  answer 
it.  Is  not  Sir  Aimand  a  Norman,  and  am  I  not  the 
cousin  of  Harold  Godwinsson  ?  ' 

'  I  tell  thee  truly  I  am  sick  of  thy  eternal  Harold 
Godwinsson  ! '  cried  Emma,  springing  up  and  pacing 
the  room.  '  His  name  is  dragged  forth  in  season  or 
out  of  season.  It  must  be  hard  for  the  poor  man  to 
rest  in  his  grave !  Here  are  eight  years  the  Normans 
and  the  Saxons — if  Saxon  thou  wilt  own  thyself,  some- 
times thou  wilt  correct  me  that  thou  art  an  Anglo-Dane  ! 
— have  been  living  in  peace,  and  marrying  and  giving  in 
marriage,  and  thou  wouldst  wake  up  old  quarrels,  and 
part  them  in  sunder  again.  As  well  might  I  refuse  to 
marry  Ralph  dc  Guader  because  of  his  English  blood.' 

'  But  the  earl  fought  with  thy  people.  How  know  I 
but  that  my  kinsfolk  fell  by  vSir  Aimand's  hand  ?  He 
was  at  Senlac,  though  but  a  young  squire.  The  gulf 
that  yawns  between  us  is  impassable ! '  and  Eadgyth's 
shoulders  shook  with  an  irrepressible  shudder. 


72  SAXON  AND  NORMAN. 

'  Even  so,'  said  Emma,  '  it  was  in  fair  fight  on  a 
hardly-contested  field,  and  Sir  Aimand  would  be  in  no 
way  blood-guilty  therefor.  When  a  quarrel  is  ended, 
generous  foes  shake  hands.' 

*  So  said  Sir  Aimand.  For  he  asked  me  if  any  reason 
were  behind  my  answer  that  he  might  know,  and  I  told 
him  frankly  that  my  heart  still  bled  for  my  country's 
wounds,  and  that  I  could  not  forget  that  the  lance  he 
offered  to  ply  in  mine  honour  had  tilted  against  my 
countrymen,  had  perhaps  been  dyed  with  the  blood  of 
those  dear  to  me.  He  answered  and  said,  that  it  had 
been  a  fair  fight,  with  no  ill  blood  between  the  com- 
batants ;  that  God  had  made  the  Norman  arms  prevail, 
and  that  I  ought  to  accede  to  His  holy  will.  But  I 
cannot  feel  it  so,'  Eadgyth  ended,  with  a  sigh. 

'  Then  I  must  try  to  comfort  thee  some  other  way,' 
said  Emma,  resuming  her  seat,  and  taking  the  face  of 
her  friend  in  both  her  hands,  and  turning  it  up  and 
kissing  it,  for  Eadgyth  was  sitting  on  a  lov/  stool  at  her 
feet,  as  was  her  wont.  '  Remember  thou  art  on  thy  way 
to  thy  dear  Norwich,  where  some  of  thy  kin  may  still 
be  found  ;  nay,  some  may  be  amongst  the  invited  guests 
to  the  banquet,  and  encamped  near  thee  even  now.  We 
know,  at  least,  that  more  than  one  noble  thegn  will  be 
present.  Who  can  say  what  fate  may  have  in  store  for 
thee  ? ' 

Eadgyth  shook  her  head. 

'Alas,  Emma!  I  shall  not  find  comfort  so.  There 
was  that  in  the  face  of  the  poor  knight  as  he  turned  away 
that  I  fear  me  will  haunt  my  memory  to  my  dying  day.' 


SAXON  AND  NORMAN.  73 

'  Nay  then,  if  that  be  thy  mood,  I  will  waste  no  pity 
on  thee,'  said  Emma.  '  Shame  on  thee,  that  thou 
shouldst  send  my  countryman  away  with  a  sad  face,  and 
doubtless  an  aching  heart,  for  such  a  fantastic  whim  ! ' 

But  the  soft  tones  of  her  voice  somewhat  belied  her 
declaration  that  she  would  bestow  no  pity  on  her  way- 
ward friend. 


CHAPTER   VI. 

THE   BRIDE-ALE. 

The  festivities  of  the  days  preceding  the  wedding 
had  no  special  incidents  to  mark  them  as  more  worthy 
of  note  than  a  hundred  such  which  have  been  de- 
scribed in  history  and  romance,  but  the  wedding-day 
itself  left  its  mark  on  time,  and  has  been  recorded 
as  of  woeful  bearing  on  the  destinies  of  the  many  who 
partook  of  its  good  cheer,  by  chroniclers  contemporary 
and  modern. 

The  ceremonies  observed  at  the  marriage  were  after 
the  Anglo-Saxon  fashions,  and  Ralph  de  Guader  himself 
wore  the  Saxon  garb  :  a  tunic  of  saffron  silk  reaching 
to  the  knee,  with  a  border  round  the  neck  and  hem  of 
embroidery  in  gold  thread,  edged  with  ermine,  and 
fastened  at  the  waist  with  a  wide  belt  of  highly- 
wrought  goldsmith's  work  set  with  jewels  ;  suspended 
from  this  a  short  sword,  hilted  with  gold-inlaid  ivory, 
and  a  fierce-looking  hunting- knife  no  less  richly  em- 
bellished. On  his  shoulders  a  short  scarlet  cloak  lined 
with  ermine,  and  fastened  by  a  band  across  the  chest  of 
similar  work  and  design  to  the  baldric,  having  at  each 
extremity  a  round  clasp  of  Danish  filigree,  much  raised  in 

74 


THE  BRIDE-ALE.  -75 

the  centre,  where  a  splendid  ruby  repeated  the  red  of  the 
cloak.  Stockings  of  scarlet  cloth,  cross-gartered  with 
golden  braid,  and  short  brown  leather  boots,  the  heels 
armed  with  the  golden  spurs  of  knighthood,  completed 
his  apparel. 

His  earl's  coronet  was  embedded  in  the  crisp  dark 
curls  of  his  close-cropped  hair,  which,  to  have  been  in 
keeping  with  his  dress,  should  have  been  long  enough  to 
lie  upon  his  shoulders,  and  the  colour  of  tow  ;  and,  to  say- 
truth,  his  swart  countenance  was  still  less  in  character. 
Yet  from  an  esthetic  point  of  view  the  costume  was 
sufficiently  becoming,  and  the  personal  appearance  of  the 
bridegroom  drew  forth  a  full  share  of  praise  from  the 
noble  dames  and  damsels  who  graced  the  day  with  their 
presence,  for  he  looked  strikingly  handsome,  flushed  as 
he  was  with  excitement,  his  face  animated,  and  his  keen 
eyes  flashing. 

The  policy  of  adopting  it  was  another  question. 
Many  of  the  English  nobles  and  knights,  whom  it  was 
intended  to  flatter,  rather  resented  his  assumption  of 
their  national  garb  as  a  mockery  and  insult,  after  the 
part  he  had  borne  in  helping  to  crush  their  cause  and 
help  the  Conqueror  to  the  throne,  while  the  Normans 
and  Bretons  were  offended  by  it. 

The  guest  in  whose  honour  he  had  chiefly  assumed  it, 
Waltheof,  Earl  of  Northumberland,  Northampton,  and 
Huntingdon,  wore  a  similar  garb  with  all  the  ease  of 
custom  and  grace  of  habit,  and  looked  in  very  truth  an 
English  prince.  Tall,  broad-chested,  brawny-armed,  his 
long  light  hair  hanging  in  shining  curls  upon  his  shoul- 


76  THE  BRIDE- ALE. 

ders,  his  strong  wrists  circled  with  many  bracelets,  hands, 
arms,  and  neck  covered  with  blue  tattoo-marks,  he  stood 
by  the  East  Anglian  earl  with  a  pleasant  smile  on  his 
ruddy  face  and  in  his  sleepy  blue  eyes.  '  This  earle 
Walteof  or  Waldene,'  says  Holinshed,  '  was  sonne  (as  ye 
haue  heard)  to  Siward  the  noble  earle  of  Northumber- 
land, of  whose  valure  in  the  time  of  K.  Edward  the  con- 
fessor ye  haue  heard.  His  son,  the  aforesaid  Walteof, 
in  strength  of  bodie  and  hardinesse  did  not  degenerate 
from  his  father,  for  he  was  tall  of  personage,  in  sinews 
and  musculs  verie  strong  and  mighty.  In  the  slaughter 
of  the  Normans  at  Yorke,  he  showed  proofe  of  his 
prowesse  in  striking  off  the  heads  of  manie  of  them  with 
his  owne  hands,  as  they  came  forth  of  the  gates  singlie 
one  by  one.' 

But  this  doughty  hero,  this  son  of  Siward  and  ^thel- 
flsed,  whom  the  Northern  scalds  celebrated  in  their  sagas, 
and  who  claimed  relationship  to  the  kings  of  Denmark 
and  descent  from  the  Fairy  Bear, — the  great  white  bear, 
the  hound  of  Hrymir,  who  was  credited  with  twelve 
men's  strength  and  eleven  men's  wit  by  the  Norsemen, — 
was  not  so  strong  of  mind  as  of  body  ;  the  '  eleven  men's 
wit '  of  his  ursine  ancestor  had  not  come  down  to  him. 
He  had  not  the  indomitable  spirit  of  Harold  Godwinsson 
or  Hereward  Leofricsson,  and  he  succumbed  to  the  finer 
brain  of  the  Norman  general.  He  had  done  homage  to 
William,  and  had  accepted  the  hand  of  William's  niece 
Judith,  daughter  of  the  Conqueror's  own  sister  Adelaide, 
and  grand-daughter  of  Robert  the  Devil  and  Arlete  of 
Falaise,   and,   in   return,  the   earldom    which    had   been 


THE  BRIDE-ALE.  yy 

wrested  from  him  was  restored  —  the  Northumbrian 
portion  of  it,  at  least,  a  barren  waste  by  fire  and 
sword. 

It  was  whispered  that  he  hated  his  foreign  wife,  that 
she  henpecked  him  cruelly,  and  was  but  a  spy  set  to 
watch  all  his  actions.  Some  thought  the  marriage, 
instead  of  binding  him  to  William's  interest,  would  prove 
his  strongest  incentive  to  revolt. 

However  that  might  be,  Judith  appeared  at  Exning 
with  an  almost  royal  following,  and  was  to  fill  the 
honourable  position  of  '  bride-woman,'  as  the  matron  who 
in  those  days  gave  the  bride  away  was  then  styled,  and 
whose  place  is  now  held  by  the  nearest  male  relative. 
Another  change  has  taken  place  in  marriage  ceremonial. 
Then  it  was  the  duty  of  the  bridemaids  to  lead  the 
bridegroom  to  the  altar  instead  of  following  the  bride, 
and  Ralph  de  Guadcr  was  preceded  by  a  bevy  of  fair 
damsels,  of  whom  Eadgyth  of  Norwich  was  the  chief, 
while  the  bride  was  conducted  by  a  party  of  handsome 
young  bride-knights,  almost  as  bravely  attired  as  the 
groom  himself 

Emma  Fitzosbcrn  still  clung  to  the  Norman  fashions, 
and  wore  a  tight-fitting  kirtlc  of  pale  green  samite, 
embroidered  all  over  with  silver  thread  and  pearls  ;  a 
silver  girdle  passing  diagonally  round  the  hips,  richly 
gemmed  with  emeralds,  from  which  hung  a  gipsire  of 
like  material.  A  long  underskirt  of  salmon  silk  fell  to 
her  feet  and  trailed  upon  the  ground  behind  her.  Iler 
little  pointed  boots  were  of  green  samite,  wrought  with 
silver,  and  a  splendid  embroidered  mantle,  in  which  the 


78  THE  BRIDE- ALE. 

colours  of  the  kirtle  and  skirt  were  subtly  blended, 
hung  from  her  shoulders,  and  was  held  up  by  two 
little  page  boys.  Her  auburn  hair  flowed  over  the 
mantle,  and  was  bound  by  a  silver  fillet,  fastened  in 
front  with  one  large  emerald.  Over  face  and  figure  fell 
a  veil  of  delicate  Cyprian  crape,  flowered  with  silver 
thread. 

Green  signified  youth,  and  salmon  or  flesh  colour 
typified  earthly  joy.  Her  beautiful  costume  had  been 
designed  for  her  by  no  less  a  person  than  her  uncle,  the 
Bishop  of  Exeter,  who  was  pleased  to  emulate  St, 
Dunstan  by  designing  a  lady's  dress. 

Judith,  her  bride-woman,  on  whose  arm  she  leant,  wore 
a  robe  of  rich  red  samite  heavy  with  gold,  and  ostenta- 
tiously Norman  in  style.  Her  tall,  stately  figure  was  as 
straight  as  an  arrow,  and  made  a  splendid  foil  to  the 
shrinking  form  of  the  bride. 

Her  clear-cut,  cold  features  and  sparkling  steel-blue 
eyes  wore  a  sarcastic  and  critical  expression,  but  she 
acted  her  part  with  a  grace  and  courtesy  which  the  many 
who  longed  to  pass  adverse  criticisms  on  Jier  could  not 
but  admit  to  be  perfect. 

Emma  felt  a  strong  repugnance  to  her  kinswoman, 
the  more  so  perhaps  that  Judith's  features  and  eyes 
reminded  her  of  the  king  she  was  defying,  and  every 
time  she  met  their  glance,  a  thrill  of  dread. and  forebod- 
ing passed  through  her  heart. 

The  wedding  procession  was  preceded  to  the  church 
by  a  dozen  Saxon  scops  or  bards,  who  sung  each  to  the 
sound  of  his  cruit,  a  harp  having  five  strings,  yet  afford- 


THE  BRIDE-ALE.  79 

ing  a  very  sweet  music,  and  by  esquires  and  pages 
strewing  flowers  ;  and  the  guests  were  led  by  Earls 
Waltheof  and  Hereford,  the  latter  with  his  young  coun- 
tess on  his  arm. 

The  little  church  at  Exning  would  not  have  contained 
so  great  a  company,  but  the  fashion  in  those  days  was 
for  the  bride  and  bridegroom  to  stand  on  the  threshold 
till  the  ceremony  was  almost  concluded.  After  the 
wedding  ring  had  been  bestowed  with  due  ceremony, — 
being  placed  first  on  the  thumb  and  successively  upon  the 
second  and  fourth  finger,  where  it  was  allowed  to  remain, 
that  finger  being  supposed  by  the  most  scientific  author- 
ities of  the  time  to  be  joined  to  the  heart  by  a  small 
artery, — the  couple  entered  the  sacred  portal,  and  ad- 
vanced to  the  altar,  before  which  the  nuptial  benediction 
was  given  by  the  bridegroom,  under  cover  of  a  square 
veil,  held  aloft  by  four  tall  knights,  and  termed  a  'care- 
cloth.' 

Wine,  blessed  by  the  officiating  priest,  was  then  poured 
into  a  splendid  golden  bride-cup,  in  which  was  placed  a 
sprig  of  gilded  rosemary,  supposed  to  have  the  gift  of 
strengthening  memory  and  increasing  tenderness,  and 
many  other  good  qualities.  In  this  the  bride  and  bride- 
groom pledged  each  other,  and  it  was  then  handed  round 
to  all  the  guests.  A  wheaten  cake,  in  token  of  i)lcnty 
and  fruitfulness,  was  then  broken  between  them,  from 
whence  we  derive  our  bride-cake. 

On  leaving  the  church,  the  newly-made  husband  and 
wife  were  crowned  with  garlands  of  flowers,  and  the  Earl 
of  Hereford  presented  his  sister  with  her  dower. 


8o  THE  BRIDE- ALE. 

The  word  bridal  comes  from  the  Saxon  bryd-eala, 
from  a  custom  among  that  people  of  the  bride  selling  to 
each  guest  a  tankard  of  foaming  ale  drawn  from  the  tun 
by  her  own  fair  hands,  the  price  being  at  first  paid  in 
kind,  and  consisting  of  a  contribution  to  the  banquet,  by 
which  means  the  expense  of  entertaining  a  great  com- 
pany was  lessened  for  the  young  couple.  For  this  simple 
exchange,  more  costly  presents  were  substituted  after  a 
while,  a  part  of  the  custom  which  still  survives,  though 
the  bride  no  longer  offers  an  equivalent. 

This  ceremony  was  magnificently  observed  at  the 
East  Anglian  earl's  wedding,  and  Emma  de  Guader 
dispensed  the  favourite  Saxon  drink  in  a  glorious  golden 
beaker,  which  was  of  depth  sufficient  to  try  the  wind  and 
capacity  of  the  gallants,  as  they  strove  to  empty  it  with- 
out drawing  breath,  particularly  of  the  Normans,  who 
were  not  adepts  at  the  art  of  copious  drinking.  Many 
and  rich  were  the  presents  offered  in  payment,  with  fit- 
ting good  wishes  and  compliments,  Waltheof  bestowing 
the  most  superb  of  all,  a  pair  of  Danish  tores  of  that 
beautiful  gold  filigree,  the  working  of  which  was  the 
special  glory  of  the  Danish  goldsmiths  of  that  day,  and 
a  white  bear's  skin  of  rare  beauty  and  value. 

A  bountiful  feast  followed,  pages  and  esquires,  clad  in 
the  colours  of  the  nobles  and  knights  they  served,  pre- 
senting the  dishes  on  the  knee,  one  golden  plate  beino- 
set  between  each  lady  and  gentleman  ;  it  being  the  duty 
of  the  latter  to  carve  choice  morsels  for  his  fair  charge 
with  his  dagger.  Peacocks  in  their  feathers,  crane,  heron, 
and  swan,  porpoise,  seal,  venison,  and  boar's  head,  were 


THE  BRIDE- ALE.  8i 

amongst  the  delicacies  ofifered,  and  the  united  science  of 
Saxon  and  Norman  cooks  achieved  some  triumphs  of 
cuHnary  skill,  we  may  be  sure.  A  receipt  for  forcemeat 
which  has  come  down  to  us  from  those  days,  will  show 
they  were  no  novices  in  the  matter.  It  is  to  be  com- 
pounded of  pork,  figs,  and  cheese,  moistened  with  ale, 
seasoned  with  pepper  and  salt,  and  baked  in  a  crust, 
garnished  with  powderings  of  sugar  and  comfits.  All 
these  good  things  were  washed  down  with  rare  wines, 
Gascon  and  Rhenish,  with  hippocras  and  pigment  spiced 
to  suit  the  Saxon  palate,  with  moral  and  mead,  cider, 
perry,  and  ale. 

In  all,  Saxon  profusion  was  united  to  the  dainty 
Norman  cookery,  and,  under  the  influence  of  this  heavy 
hospitality,  the  male  portion  of  the  guests  grew  some- 
what boisterous. 

When  the  attendants  brought  in  large  Saxon  drinking- 
horns,  filled  with  hydromel  and  beer,  and  marked  with 
knobs  of  brass  to  indicate  to  what  depth  the  guests  might 
quaff  without  fear  of  intoxication,  with  cups  of  spiced 
wine  for  those  who  preferred  it,  the  bride  arose  from  her 
seat,  her  Norman  delicacy  already  offended  by  the 
copiousness  of  the  potations. 

Nevertheless,  before  she  left,  she  touched  her  lips  to 
one  of  the  hugest  drinking-horns  and  pledged  the  guests. 
Then  she  withdrew  with  the  ladies  of  the  company, 
the  Countess  Judith  casting  a  strange  glance  of  con- 
temptuous malice  as  she  went. 

The  bride's  challenge  was,  as  may  be  imagined,  received 
with  ready  enthusiasm,  and  called  forth  such  lusty  cheer- 


82  THE  BRIDE- ALE. 

ing,  that  she  had  reached  her  bower  ere  it  died  away. 
Before  it  had  well  ceased,  the  Earl  of  Hereford  rose  to 
his  feet,  his  proud  young  face  full  of  wayward  triumph. 
'  Noble  earls,  barons,  and  knights,'  he  said,  '  who  honour 
this  board  with  your  presence,  ye  have  this  day  pledged 
the  health  of  the  bridegroom,  my  noble  brother-in-law, 
the  Earl  of  East  Anglia,  and  ye  have  but  now  with  a 
noble  enthusiasm  pledged  the  bride,  my  fair  sister.  I 
ask  of  you  yet  another  pledge.  Drink  to  the  marriage 
itself,  in  token  that  you,  one  and  all,  justify  my  noble 
brother  and  myself  in  our  defiance  of  the  mandate  of 
the  tyrant,  William  the  Bastard,  who  strove  to  hinder 
their  union  ! ' 

Many  a  jewelled  hunting-knife  and  misericorde  flashed 
in  the  air  to  show  that  their  owners  accepted  the  bold 
pledge  ;  for  in  those  wild  days,  when  every  man's  hand 
was  against  every  man,  it  was  the  fashion  that  when 
two  drank  together,  each  should  hold  up  his  dagger 
while  the  other  was  in  the  defenceless  position  necessi- 
tated by  the  act  of  drinking. 

'  By  the  bones  of  King  Offa,  the  founder  of  St. 
Albans,  whose  holy  Abbot  Frithric  sits  amongst  us 
to-day,  ye  do  well  to  support  me ! '  said  Hereford. 
'  But  I  would  have  your  hearts  even  more  closely  with 
me !  To  that  end  I  ask  ye  to  answer  me  a  question  or 
two,  ere  ye  drain  the  cup  to  pledge  me.  Shall  I  ask 
them  ? ' 

'  Ask  them  ! '  shouted  every  lusty  throat  around  the 
board. 

*  I  ask  ye,  then,  my  countrymen,  you  Norman  barons 


THE  BRIDE-ALE.  83 

and  knights,  and  you  noble  Bretons,  who  have  fought 
with  us  shoulder  to  shoulder,  ay,  and  you  valiant 
Saxons,  who  were  foemen  worthy  of  his  steel,  was  not 
my  father,  William  Fitzosbern,  a  good  man  and  true  ? ' 

'Old!'  shouted  the  men  of  Langued'oui,  nor  did  the 
Bretons  or  Saxons  gainsay  them. 

'Did  he  shed  his  blood  like  water  in  William's  cause? 
Did  he  fight  beside  him  in  the  thickest  of  the  fray  at 
Hastings  ? ' 

'  Oui ! '  shouted  Normans  and  Bretons,  and  the  Saxons 
assented  with  muttered  curses. 

'  Could  William  have  conquered  his  kingdom  without 
my  father's  aid  ?  ' 

*  Non  !  '  cried  the  Normans. 

'  Then,  I  ask,  is  it  fitting  and  just  that  William  the 
Bastard  should  refuse  his  sanction,  when  William 
Fitzosbern's  son  pleads  for  it,  to  the  marriage  of 
William  Fitzosbern's  daughter  with  a  noble  English 
earl  ? '  Here  he  bowed  to  Ralph  de  Guader,  who  had 
risen  and  stood  beside  him.  '  Is  it  not  a  threefold 
affront  to  the  memory  of  my  father,  to  me  his  son,  and 
to  my  noble  brother-in-law,  the  Earl  of  East  Anglia?' 

Normans,  Bretons,  and  Saxons  joined  in  a  howl  of 
reprobation  of  William  of  Normandy's  conduct,  the 
Saxons  delighting  to  find  fault  with  the  conqueror  of 
their  woeful  land  on  any  pretext,  and  boiling  with  wrath 
at  wrongs  of  their  own.  If  any  dissented,  their  feeble 
voices  were  drowned  in  the  outcry  of  indignation  that 
stormed  round  the  board.  The  cups  were  drained  to 
the  last  drop. 


84  THE  BRIDE- ALE. 

'  William  is  no  rightful  Duke  of  Normandy,  still  less 
doth  it  befit  him  to  style  himself  a  king,'  cried  a  Norman 
noble.  '  He  was  born  in  adultery,  and  God  favours  not 
the  children  of  sinful  parents.' 

'  And  born  of  mean  blood  1 '  shouted  another.  '  Who 
was  Arlete  of  Falaise,  the  tanner's  daughter,  that  her  son 
should  be  anointed  king,  even  if  he  had  been  born  in 
wedlock  ? ' 

'  If  a  natural  son  might  succeed  to  his  father's  honours,' 
said  the  Earl  of  Hereford,  his  face  flushed  with  the 
success  of  his  appeal,  '  Nicholas,  Abbe  of  St.  Ouen,  had 
been  Duke  of  Normandy,  for  he  was  the  son  of  Duke 
Robert's  elder  brother.  As  Nicholas  was  set  aside  on 
account  of  his  birth,  so  should  William  be.  Guy  of 
Burgundy  is  the  rightful  heir  ! ' 

'  Nobles  and  knights  of  Bretagne ! '  cried  the  bride- 
groom, less  fiery  than  his  Norman  brother-in-law,  but 
speaking  with  a  calm  impressive  voice,  and  flinging  out 
each  syllable  as  if  it  were  a  challenge  in  itself,  'ye 
who  have  so  faithfully  supported  me  in  this  land,  which 
is  the  land  of  my  birth,  but  not  of  yours !  Men  of 
Guader  and  Montfort !  ye  too  have  shed  your  blood 
like  water  for  the  sake  of  this  ill-born  Norman,  who  had 
God's  own  laws  against  him,  and  what  reward  hath  he 
given  you  ?  Lands  wasted  by  the  ravages  of  war, 
which  when  you  have  tilled  he  hath  taken  away  again 
to  bestow  on  those  who  were  higher  in  his  favour ! 
Some  of  your  number  he  hath  put  to  death  !  Nay 
more !  Bretagne  still  mourns  her  glorious  Count 
Conan,  whom    he    slew   with    the    coward's   weapon — 


THE  BRIDE- ALE.  85 

poison  ! — as  he  poisoned    Conan's  father   Alain    before 
him  ! ' 

A  low  growl  of  wrath,  terrible  to  hear,  answered  this 
appeal.  Many  of  the  Bretons  sprang  from  their  seats 
and  bent  over  the  table,  shouting  accusations  against 
William  of  Normandy  ;  for  Ralph's  cool  determination 
was  inherited  from  his  English  father ;  the  men  of 
Lower  Britain  were  characterised  generally  by  the 
hot-headed ness  of  their  Welsh  ancestors,  which  they 
inherited  with  their  red  hair  and  fiery  blue  eyes,  and 
Ralph  had  roused  them. 

'  Ay !  he  used  that  coward's  weapon  too  on  Walter 
and  his  wife  Biota  in  Falaise ! '  cried  a  voice  above  the 
tumult. 

'Remember  how  he  banished  William  of  Mortmain 
for  a  single  word,  and  gave  his  lands  to  Arlete's  son 
Robert ! '  cried  another,  'He  is  hateful  to  all  men ! 
His  death  would  give  joy  to  many  ! ' 

Roger  of  Hereford  whispered  in  the  ear  of  the  Abbot 
of  St.  Albans.  The  venerable  abbot  was  dearly  loved 
by  the  English  on  account  of  his  vigorous  opposition 
to  the  Norman  churchmen,  and,  in  particular,  to 
Lanfranc,  the  Italian  to  whom  William  had  given  the 
primacy,  and  whose  untiring  adversary  he  had  been. 
They  loved  him  also  for  his  share  in  the  heroic  attempt 
made  by  Hereward  Leofricsson  to  beat  back  the 
invader. 

The  turbulent  soldiers  hushed  their  outcry  as  the 
abbot  rose  to  his  feet,  and  stood  waiting  to  address 
them,  his  face  seamed  and  furrowed  by  age  and  sorrow, 


86  THE  BRIDE-ALE. 

and  his  sunken  eyes  gleaming  with  a  lustre  that  seemed 
almost  supernatural  from  beneath  his  snow-white  brows. 
Truly  a  dignified  figure,  in  his  splendid  vestments,  and 
a  pathetic  one  also,  so  worn  was  he  by  sufifering,  so 
trembling  was  the  thin  right  hand  in  which  he  held  out 
the  cross. 

'  Earls,  barons,  and  knights ! '  cried  the  old  man  in 
his  eloquent  preacher's  voice,  '  the  Earl  of  Hereford, 
whose  health  ye  have  just  pledged,  has  told  me  grievous 
news.  Know,  all  present,  that  he  is  an  excommunicated 
man  !  ' 

Many  a  cheek  that  had  hitherto  been  flushed  with 
excitement  blanched  at  that  awful  word  ;  and  a  silence 
that  might  have  been  felt  succeeded  the  passionate 
uproar.  Men  cast  questioning  glances  at  their  neigh- 
bours, wondering  each  if  the  other  would  have  strength 
of  mind  either  to  retract  or  fulfil  his  pledges  to  a 
man  under  the  anathema  of  the  Church,  and  which 
alternative  he  would  choose. 

'  Yes ! '  cried  Frithric,  his  voice  rising  clear  as  a  bell 
into  the  silence.  '  The  Norman  Church  has  cursed  him 
by  the  mouth  of  that  tool  of  William  the  Bastard,  that 
despoiler  of  saints  and  robber  of  sanctuaries,  Lanfranc, 
by  the  grace  of  that  same  William  the  Bastard,  Arch- 
bishop of  Canterbury  !  But  the  English  Church  blesses 
him ! — the  Church  of  St.  Dunstan,  St.  Eadmund,  and 
St.  Cuthberht, — of  the  blessed  martyrs  yEthelric  and 
yEthelwine, — whose  holy  members,  Archbishop  Stigand, 
Bishop  .^thelmjer,  and  Abbot  Wulfric,  now  languish 
in  the  dungeons  of  the  tyrant !     In  the  name  of  the 


THE  BRIDE- ALE.  87 

English  Church,  I  here  pronounce  that  curse  invahd, 
and  give  my  benediction  to  the  man  who  has  pity  on 
the  sufferings  of  a  hickless  race,  who  will  help  to  make 
its  oppressor  bite  the  dust ! ' 

Here  he  extended  his  thin  hands  over  Roger's  bent 
head,  and  repeated  the  benediction. 

The  other  bishops  and  abbots  present  ratified  his 
action,  and  the  tension  of  the  crisis  gave  way  before 
a  fresh  burst  of  cheering,  louder  than  any  previous. 
Then  Ralph  de  Guader  turned  to  Waltheof,  who 
had  sat  very  quietly  through  all  the  tumult,  but  had 
shown  during  Abbot  Frithric's  speech  evidence  of  rising 
emotion. 

'Valiant  hero!'  he  said,  'hast  thou  no  wrongs  to 
complain  of  at  the  hands  of  the  man  who  has  conquered 
thy  country,  and  robbed  its  princes  and  nobles  of  their 
birthrights?  who  has  murdered  or  driven  into  exile  the 
lawful  heirs  of  its  broad  acres  ?  Hast  thou  no  revenge 
to  take  on  him  who  harried  thy  patrimony,  and  made 
it  a  barren  waste,  where  even  the  wild  beasts  starve  ? 
Art  thou  appeased  because  he  gave  thee  back  thy 
father's  lands  in  such  sorry  plight?' 

Waltheof  rose  to  his  feet  like  a  giant  newly  awakened, 
magnificent  in  his  slowly  aroused  wrath,  his  sinewy 
chest  expanded,  the  muscles  in  his  splendid  neck 
knotted  like  whipcord,  and  his  blue  eyes  sparkling  with 
anger,  so  that  he  looked  as  if  he  were  verily  that  Thor, 
God  of  Battles,  whom  his  Danish  forefathers  worshipped, 
come  down  to  earth.  He  tossed  his  mantle  back  from 
his  brawny  arms,  and   his  hands  worked  involuntaril}', 


88  THE  BRIDE-ALE. 

till  the  left  sought  the  hilt  of  the  jewelled  hunting-knife 
in  his  baldric,  and  the  right  was  extended  towards  the 
sky.  His  long  golden  moustache  bristled  till  it  stood 
almost  straightly  from  either  cheek,  and  he  shook  his 
yellow  mane  like  a  lion. 

'  By  St.  John  of  Beverley,  no  ! '  he  cried.  '  The  blood 
of  starved  women  and  children  cries  for  justice !  The 
spirits  of  men  whose  flesh  was  eaten  by  their  fellows,  after 
every  horse  and  dog  and  cat  had  been  devoured,  call  for 
vengeance  on  the  harrier  of  Northumberland  !  Slaves 
rattle  their  chains  who  through  him  sold  their  freedom 
for  food !  The  sated  crows  and  ravens  alone  croak 
his  praises  from  full  maws,  for  they  grew  fat  on  the 
unburied  corses  of  those  whose  dwellings  he  had  burned 
and  whose  homesteads  he  had  laid  waste  !  It  would  be 
a  sin  to  hold  myself  under  bond  to  the  tyrant ! ' 

The  Saxon  thegns  received  this  speech  with  wild 
acclaim. 

'Ay,'  cried  one  from  Hampshire,  'and  as  in  the 
north  so  in  the  south  !  Other  kings  have  hunted  wild 
beasts  that  their  subjects  might  not  be  torn  with  them. 
This  scourge  of  God  maims  and  slaughters  his  subjects 
that  the  wild  beasts  may  live  for  his  hunting !  May 
his  New  Forest  prove  a  bane  to  him  and  his  children  ! ' 

'  Noble  Waltheof,'  cried  Ralph,  '  the  time  is  come 
to  avenge  our  wrongs.  William  is  beyond  the  sea  with 
the  flower  of  his  chivalry,  and  hard  beset  by  rebellions 
and  feuds  in  the  bosom  of  his  family,  for  such  a  tyrant 
is  he  that  his  own  kinsfolk  hate  him  !  It  is  little  likely 
that  he  will  come  back,  but  if  he  does,  it  will  be  at  a 


THE  BRIDE- ALE.  89 

disadvantage.  Join  us,  thou  whose  stalwart  arm  struck 
one  Norman  head  after  another  from  its  shoulders 
at  the  gates  of  York ! — thou  who  firedst  the  wood 
wherein  one  hundred  Normans  sheltered,  and  slew 
them  as  they  ventured  forth  like  rats  from  a  burning 
house !  Join  thy  twelve  men's  strength  to  ours ! 
We  three  earls  might  be  again  as  Siward,  Leofric,  and 
Godwin.  As  if  the  Norman  had  not  conquered, 
Godwin's  son  would  have  held  the  throne,  so  shall 
Siward's  son  be  king  when  we  in  turn  have  laid  the 
Norman  low ! ' 

'  Waltheof  Cyning  !  Waes  hael !  Waes  hael ! '  cried 
the  thegns. 

'  Call  not  the  Bastard  a  Norman  ! '  shouted  the  Earl 
of  Hereford.     '  The  Normans  disown  him  ! ' 

Then  said  Frithric,  fixing  his  shining,  mournful  eyes 
upon  the  Earl  of  Northumberland, — 

'  Waltheof,  son  of  Siward,  let  thy  words  be  upheld 
by  deeds !  Thy  hand  was  on  the  plough,  and  thou 
didst  turn  in  the  furrow  and  make  terms  with  the 
spoiler  of  thy  land.  See  to  it,  thou  failest  not  thy 
countrymen  again  ! ' 

Turning  to  the  Earl  of  East  Anglia,  he  continued  : 
'  Thou  also,  son  of  Ralph  the  Staller,  forget  the  evil 
teaching  of  thy  young  da}'s,  when  thy  heart  was 
weaned  from  thy  father's  land.  Give  thy  manhood  in 
amend  for  thy  youth,  and  Jesu  pardon  thee!  Join 
hands,  ye  two,  and  tender  each  a  hand  to  this  brave 
Norman,  whose  soul  revolts  at  the  cruelties  of  the  man 
whom  his  father  served,  alas !  for  evil  as  well  as  good  ! 


90  THE  BRIDE-ALE. 

Swear  a  solemn  oath,  ye  three  noble  earls,  to  be  true 
to  each  other,  and  to  right  this  much-wronged  land  ! ' 

A  huge  cheer  of  assent  burst  from  the  followers  of 
the  three  earls,  and  they  joined  hands  and  swore  a  great 
oath  that  they  would  unite  to  oust  the  tyrant  from 
the  throne,  and  seat  thereon  in  his  stead  Waltheof 
Siwardsson. 

And  they  settled  it  that  Waltheof  should  bring  his 
men  from  the  north,  and  seek  assistance  from  his  old 
friend  Sweyn,  King  of  Denmark,  to  strengthen  his 
hands  ;  that  Hereford  should  arm  the  west,  and  East 
Anglia  the  east,  and  so  enclose  the  forces  of  William  in 
a  deadly  triangle  of  hostile  steel. 

So  ended  the  fatal  bride-ale.^ 

^  See  Appendix,  Note  A. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

DELILAH   SPIEARS   SAMSON. 

On  the  morning  following  the  bride-ale,  Waltheof  should 
have  been  early  astir,  to  the  end  that  he  might  be  pre- 
sent at  the  bride-chamber  to  witness  the  presentation 
of  the  *  morning  gift '  from  the  bridegroom  to  the  bride, 
according  to  the  fashion  of  the  times. 

But  alas !  the  recreant  hero  lay  stretched  upon  his 
cushions  in  the  oblivion  of  slumber,  his  gigantic  limbs 
outspread  in  the  most  complete  repose,  and  his  heavy 
breathing  witnessing  to  the  depth  of  the  potations  of  the 
night  before. 

By  his  couch  watched  Judith,  niece  to  the  man  against 
whom  the  English  hero  had  raged  so  potently,  when  the 
generous  wine  had  stolen  away  the  caution  that  was 
wont  to  ward  his  speech. 

Her  magnificent  attire  of  the  previous  day  was  laid 
aside,  and  she  was  dressed  in  a  simple  travelling  gown 
of  grey  cloth. 

Her  face  wore  a  strange  expression  of  triumphant 
malice,  as  she  stooped  over  the  sleeping  giant,  and  when- 
ever he  stirred  or  showed  any  signs  of  waking,  she  passed 
her  cool  and  slender  fingers  over  his  heated  forehead, 

91 


92  DELILAH  SHEARS  SAMSON. 

and  stroked  back  the  thick  golden  curls  that  clustered 
on  his  brow,  mesmerising  him  to  sleep  again  with  her 
gentle  touches. 

The  day  wore  on,  and  the  sun  was  high  in  the  heavens, 
and  Judith's  sharp,  cold  face  grew  more  and  more 
triumphant. 

A  time  came  at  last,  however,  when  even  her  deft 
fingers  could  no  longer  bind  the  wings  of  sleep,  and  the 
earl  opened  his  blue  eyes  with  a  mighty  yawn,  springing 
into  consciousness  with  an  uneasy  sense  of  having  under- 
taken heavy  responsibilities.  For  Waltheof,  like  most 
giants,  was  lazy,  and  though  terrible  when  roused,  had  a 
strong  preference  for  quietness  and  peace. 

Therefore  he  gave  a  great  sigh  when  he  remembered 
the  vows  of  the  night  before,  and  wished  he  were  well 
out  of  his  hazardous  undertaking.  Ambition  had  small 
hold  of  his  nature,  and  he  had  far  rather  be  an  earl 
in  peace,  than  a  monarch  who  had  to  fight  for  his 
throne.  Moreover,  his  religious  sentiments  were  strong, 
and  inclined  to  an  ascetic  renunciation.  Judith  swept 
back  the  curtain  from  the  lattice,  and  let  a  flood  of 
noonday  light  into  the  hitherto  carefully  darkened 
chamber. 

Waltheof  started. 

'  It  is  noon ! '  he  said.  '  Why  didst  thou  not  wake 
me  ?  By  St.  John  of  Beverley !  it  was  meet  that  I 
should  have  attended  the  presentation  of  the  morning 
gift' 

Judith  knew  that  her  lord  was  deeply  moved,  by  his 
invocation  of  the  Northumbrian  saint,  whose  name  was 


DELILAH  SHEARS  SAMSON.  93 

connected  with  all  the  wrongs  that  he  preferred  to  forget 
when  he  was  in  an  amiable  mood.  Yet  she  answered 
calmly,  and  with  scorn  in  her  voice,  '  Who  can  wake  a 
drunken  man  ? ' 

And  the  champion  who  had  struck  off  the  heads  of 
the  Norman  warriors,  one  after  another,  with  a  single 
blow  of  his  terrible  seax,  at  the  gates  of  York,  was  so 
ignominiously  under  the  rule  of  his  Norman  wife,  that 
he  swallowed  his  wrath  and  made  no  reply. 

Judith  made  haste  to  improve  her  advantage,  and  to 
carry  the  war  into  the  enemy's  camp. 

'  How  I  hate  these  Saxon  excesses  ! '  she  continued  ; 
'only  befitting  barbarians,  lowering  men  below  the  level 
of  the  brutes,  who  eat  when  they  are  hungry,  and  drink 
when  they  are  thirsty,  and  abstain  when  want  is  satisfied. 
Thou  madest  not  a  fair  picture,  Waltheof,  lying  sprawled 
out  and  insensible  in  thy  tipsy  sleep,  a  prey  to  any  evil 
creature  who  had  chanced  to  come  thy  way.  Cyning  of 
the  Saxons,  indeed  !  Learn  first  to  be  king  of  thine 
own  appetites ! ' 

Waltheof  started,  and  his  brows  knitted  over  his  still 
heavy  eyes, 

*  How  knewest  thou  that,  witch  of  Endor  ? '  he 
demanded. 

'  Nay,  thou  hast  experience  that  the  spirits  of  the  air 
are  at  my  beck,  and  that  my  power  serves  me  to  gain 
knowledge  of  all  that  concerns  my  dearly-beloved  spouse,' 
returned  Judith,  with  a  sneer. 

'  Sorceress  !  I  believe,  in  sooth,  thou  art  leagued  with 
the  devil ! '  quoth  Waltheof  furiously,  and  his  expression 


94  DELILAH  SHEARS  SAMSON. 

was  no  metaphor.  He  was  superstitious  by  nature,  and 
his  sharp-witted  wife  had  done  her  utmost  to  impress 
him  with  the  notion  that  her  intellectual  gifts  were  re- 
plenished from  supernatural  sources.  Hence  her  power 
over  him.  '  But  I  tell  thee,  thou  hadst  better  never  have 
been  born  than  meddle  in  this  concern  of  thy  husband's. 
For  this  concern  is  the  concern  not  of  my  poor  un- 
worthy self,  but  of  my  country,  of  my  people !  And  I 
tell  thee,  foreign  harridan,  I  had  liefer  strangle  thee  with 
mine  own  hands  than  be  frustrated  ! ' 

''Tis  pity,'  quoth  Judith  calmly,  'since  the  matter 
is  marred  already.' 

'  What  meanest  thou,  viper  ? '  shouted  Waltheof, 
fully  aroused  and  springing  to  his  feet,  and  advancing 
towards  Judith  with  a  threatening  gesture,  his  mighty 
fist,  which  could  have  struck  the  life  from  her  frail 
body  at  a  blow,  clenched  into  an  iron  ball,  and  the 
knots  in  his  massive  throat  working  with  nervous 
excitement. 

But  Judith  faced  him  unmoved,  her  proud  face  flash- 
ing with  scorn.  For  the  blood  of  Robert  the  Devil  and 
Arlete  of  Falaise  was  hot  in  her  veins,  and  perhaps  she 
opined,  also,  that  even  in  his  wrath  her  heroic  lord  was 
too  generous  to  hurt  her.  She  did  not  quail  before  him 
but  stood  looking  at  him  with  her  defiant,  steadfast 
eyes. 

'  Slay  me  if  thou  wilt,'  she  said,  without  a  falter  in  her 
tone.  '  That  which  is  done  cannot  be  undone.  My 
death  will  not  hinder  the  stout  messenger  that  sped 
through   the   night,   ere    thou    hadst    reeled    from   the 


DELILAH  SHEARS  SAMSON.  95 

banquet  to  thy  chamber,  from  bearing  the  news  of  thy 
treason  to  Lanfranc.  In  vain  wilt  thou  seek  to  overtake 
him,  for  he  hath  nigh  a  twelve  hours'  start,  and  he  is 
mounted  on  thine  own  Spanish  destrier,  the  swiftest  steed 
in  England — William's  gift!' 

The  oath  with  which  Walthcof  answered  was  too 
terrible  for  repetition.  He  sprang  at  his  wife,  and 
clutched  her  slender  throat  with  his  strong  fingers,  as  if 
he  were  in  very  truth  about  to  execute  his  threat  and 
strangle  her. 

She  stood  like  a  statue,  though  the  weight  of  his 
hands  upon  her  shoulders  almost  bore  her  to  the 
ground. 

'  My  people  are  as  dear  to  me  as  thine  to  thcc,'  she 
said,  expecting  the  death-grip  to  follow  her  bold  speech. 
'  Thou  hast  sworn  fealty  to  William,  nay,  thou  hast  done 
him  homage,  and  put  thy  hands  between  his  and  vowed 
to  be  his  man  ;  thou  hast  married  me,  his  niece !  The 
struggle  and  the  bloodshed  arc  over,  the  Normans  and 
Saxons  should  be  one,  and  thou  wouldst  renew  the  strife 
and  divide  them  again  ! ' 

With  a  moan  like  that  of  a  wounded  bull,  the  son  of 
Siward  cast  the  grand-daughter  of  Robert  the  Devil  from 
him,  and,  covering  his  face  with  his  hands,  threw  himself 
back  on  his  couch  in  an  agony  of  thwarted  and  impotent 
rage. 

'  Hadst  thou  been  a  man!'  he  muttered, — 'hadst 
thou  been  a  man,  that  I  could  do  battle  with  thee  hand 
to  hand  ! ' 

'Had    I    been  a   man,   Waltheof,'  said    Judith    softly 


96  DELILAH  SHEARS  SAMSON. 

kneeling  on  one  knee  beside  her  prostrate  warrior, — '  had 
I  been  a  man,  Waltheof,  I  had  not  been  here  to  save 
thee,  and  thy  country,  and  thy  people  from  the  conse- 
quences of  thy  drunken  folly.  Holy  Mary  be  praised 
that  made  me  a  woman  !  Waltheof,  what  is  thy  love  for 
thy  people,  if  thou  wouldst  plunge  them  again  in  blood 
and  fire  for  the  vain  hope  of  satisfying  an  impossible 
ambition  ?  Was  not  the  harrying  of  Northumberland 
enough,  that  thou  wouldst  have  the  whole  country 
ravaged  from  north  to  south  ?  ' 

No  man  of  many  words  was  the  hero  of  York,  and  his 
only  reply  to  this  eloquent  appeal  was  to  mutter  an 
occasional  curse  in  his  beard,  nor  did  he  raise  his  face 
from  the  pillows  among  which  he  had  plunged  it. 

'  I  tell  thee,'  Judith  went  on,  '  William  would  harry 
the  land  from  York  to  Hastings,  as  he  harried  it  from 
Durham  to  York,  rather  than  lose  it  from  his  grip.  And 
thinkest  thou  that  he  whom  Harold  Godwinsson  could 
not  baulk  nor  drive  from  the  land  ere  one  Norman 
castle  or  stronghold  was  built  in  it,  though  he  had  the 
full  force  of  the  Saxon  chivalry  at  his  back,  could  be  so 
easily  ousted  from  the  saddle  into  which  he  has  climbed, 
now  the  most  part  of  the  nation  are  dead,  or  ruined 
and  torn  by  dissensions  and  rivalry  ?  Thinkest  thou  I 
would  not  gladly  be  a  queen  if  there  were  any  hope 
of  such  an  ending  to  thine  exploit  ?  But  seeing  it 
not,  I  have  chosen  rather  to  endeavour  to  save  thy 
life.' 

'  Save  my  life  ?  Thou  hast  rather  lost  it !  Say'st 
thou  not   that  thou    hast   betrayed    me  to   Lanfranc?' 


DELILAH  SHEARS  SAMSON.  97 

He   raised    his   head    at   last,   and    looked   her   in.  the 
face. 

'  Nay,  Waltheof !'  answered  Judith,  softly  laying  her 
slender  hand  upon  his  huge  shoulder.  'The  foreign 
harridan  loves  her  husband  !  I  would  save  thee,  not 
destroy  thee.  The  letter  was  couched  in  thy  name  and 
sealed  with  thy  seal,  and  so  writ  as  though  thou  hadst 
but  seemed  to  join  the  plot  the  better  to  discomfit  the 
king's  enemies.' 

'  Thou  fiend  infernal ! '  cried  Waltheof,  starting  up 
again  in  an  agony.  '  Hast  thou  so  dared  to  sully  my 
good  name  ? — to  paint  me  so  black  a  traitor  ? ' 

'  Softly,  my  husband !  The  vow  that  is  first  made 
counts  most  binding.  I  would  save  thy  name  from  the 
foul  stain  of  treachery  to  thy  generous  liege  -  lord, 
William  of  Normandy,  to  whom  thou  didst  homage  in 
person  on  the  banks  of  the  Tees,  coming  of  thine  own 
free  will  to  tender  it,  and  accepting  his  forgiveness,  his 
friendship,  and  the  hand  of  his  kinsvv^oman.  Yes — the 
hand  of  thy  poor  wife  Judith,  who  would  fain  lead  thee 
back  to  thy  nobler  self 

The  logic  of  this  speech  bore  heavily  on  Waltheof, 
who  threw  him.sclf  down  again  upon  the  couch  with  a 
curse  and  a  moan. 

'  Would  that  the  sun  had  never  risen  on  the  (hu'  I 
first  saw  light ! '  he  muttered. 

Judith  stretched  out  her  hand  and  raised  the  golden 
crucifix  which  was  suspended  by  a  cliain  from  her 
husband's  neck,  so  that  it  was  on  a  level  with  his 
eyes. 


98  DELILAH  SHEARS  SAMSON. 

'Though  we  be  of  two  nations,  Waltheof,'  she  said 
gently,  '  we  are  servants  of  one  Lord.  The  abbot  who 
bade  thee  plunge  thy  country  afresh  in  blood  and  fire  is 
no  true  priest  of  God.  And  for  my  countryman,  Roger 
of  Hereford,  thinkest  thou  Lanfranc  excommunicated 
him  for  nought  ? — Lanfranc,  who  loved  him  as  a  son. 
Wouldst  thou  associate  with  one  accursed?  What  motive 
can  he  have  in  this  save  the  slaking  of  his  over-weening 
pride  ?  As  for  the  Breton,  or  the  Englishman,  or  what- 
soever he  be  called,  Ralph  of  Guader,  he  who  fought 
against  his  people  at  Hastings  can  have  little  spur  save 
his  own  ambition.  Wilt  thou  be  the  tool  of  such  as 
these?  I  tell  thee,  Waltheof,  if  thou  by  timely  return 
to  thy  sober  senses  dost  frustrate  the  plottings  of  these 
men,  thy  memory  will  be  green  in  the  pages  of  the 
chroniclers,  but  if  thou  dost  strengthen  them  in  their  folly, 
the  ages  will  curse  thee.  Without  thee  they  are  power- 
less. It  is  thy  name  they  conjure  with,  son  of  Siward. 
What  Saxon  would  fight  for  Roger  of  Hereford,  the  son 
of  their  mightiest  foe,  or  for  the  renegade,  half-bred 
Ralph  de  Guader?  Go  now  to  Lanfranc,  throw  thy- 
self at  his  feet,  and  all  bloodshed  will  be  stopped.' 

And  Waltheof  groaned,  and  kissed  the  crucifix  as  she 
held  it  to  his  lips,  for  he  was  deeply  religious  after  the 
wild  manner  of  his  times  ;  humble  in  his  faith,  and  little 
dreaming  that  the  Saxon  Church  he  loved  so  well 
would  one  day  account  him  a  martyr,  and  accord  the 
power  of  miracle-working  to  the  tomb  in  which  his 
headless  corse  would  repose,  the  trysting-place  of  count- 
less pilgrims, 


DELILAH  SHEARS  SAMSON. 


99 


'  I  would  not  willingly  bring  further  suffering  on  my 
unhappy  country,'  he  said  thoughtfully, 

A  gleam  of  triumph  passed  over  the  face  of  Judith, 
for  the  fury  was  gone  from  his  voice,  and  she  knew  that 
she  had  conquered. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

KNIGHT-ERRANT   AND   MERCENARY. 

Sir  Aimand  DE  Sourdeval,  after  he  had  been  for- 
bidden by  Eadgyth  of  Norwich  to  wear  her  colours 
openly  in  his  helm  at  the  tourney,  had  cast  about  in 
his  mind  for  some  means  of  so  bearing  them  that  she 
should  be  aware  that  he  did  so,  and  she  alone. 

Accordingly,  he  had  a  new  device  blazoned  on  his 
shield, — a  star  shining  from  a  band  of  blue  sky  between 
two  barriers  of  sable  cloud,  with  the  motto,  '  Lespcrance 
vit  dans  le  bleu',  blue  being  the  colour  most  affected 
by  Eadgyth,  and  to  be  worn  by  her,  he  knew,  at  the 
bride-ale. 

This  shield  he  bore  with  brilliant  fortune  in  the  joust, 
and  plied  his  lance  so  well  that  the  highest  prize  was 
awarded  to  him,  a  lady's  bracelet  gleaming  with  many 
gems,  which  Emma  Fitzosbern  handed  to  him  with  a 
bright  smile ;  while  Eadgyth,  who  stood  behind  her, 
thrilled  with  pleasure  and  pride  that  the  knight  who  had 
placed  his  valour  at  her  disposal  had  so  worthily  acquitted 
himself,  though  it  was  but  a  painful  pleasure,  since  she 
deemed  that  an  impassable  gulf  divided  them,  and  she 
grieved  to  see  how,  without  wearing  any  token  openly. 


100 


KNIGHT-ERRANT  AND  MERCENAR  V.  loi 

Sir  Aimand  still  contrived  to  carry  her  colours.  The 
ingenuity  of  the  homage  touched  Eadgyth  to  the  quick, 
for  she  was  no  coquette,  and  had  no  wish  that  a  gallant 
youth  should  waste  his  breath  in  vain  sighs  for  her 
favour. 

So,  when  Emma  with  a  gracious  compliment  crowned 
Sir  Aimand  with  laurel,  and  handed  him  the  prize  he 
had  won  away  from  the  many  dexterous  lances  and 
strong  arms  which  had  contended  for  it,  Eadgyth's  eyes 
were  full  of  ruth,  and  Sir  Aimand,  seeing  them,  grew 
suddenly  glad  at  heart. 

'  Nay,  noble  Emma,'  he  said,  declining  to  take  the 
bracelet  from  her  hand.  '  Though  my  lady's  eyes  are  as 
bright  as  the  jewels  that  stud  this  golden  circlet,  they 
look  not  upon  me  with  favour,  neither  may  I  wear  her 
token  in  mine  helm,  nor  place  my  trophies  at  her  feet. 
Bestow  the  prize,  therefore,  upon  one  of  thy  fair  damsels 
whose  small  wrist,  pcradventure,  it  may  be  of  size  to 
suit.' 

So  saying,  he  descended  into  the  lists  again,  mounted 
his  steed,  and  rode  away  amid  the  cheers  of  the  spectators. 

Emma  turned  to  the  maiden  beside  her,  and  bade  her 
hold  out  her  wrist. 

'  I  believe  shrcwdl)'  the  bracelet  will  fit  thuc,'  she  said  ; 
and  Eadgyth,  blushing,  was  obliged  to  obey,  and  saw  the 
jewelled  circle!  blazing  rouiul  her  arm  with  strangely 
mingled  feelings  of  tiiimiph  and  sonnw. 

On  the  day  of  the  bride-ale,  it  fell  to  the  lot  of  Sir 
Aimand,  as  the  youngest  knight  in  Ralph  de  Guader's 
following,  to  keep  ward  over  the  sentries  of  the  camp, 


I02  KNIGHT-ERRANT  AND  MERCENARY. 

and  necessarily,  therefore,  to  be  absent  from  the  banquet. 
So,  while  his  chief  was  pledging  his  guests  with  pledges 
of  dire  import,  and  men  were  feasting  and  revelling  and 
vowing  mad  vows  to  help  each  other's  treason,  and  follow 
the  three  great  earls  in  their  wild  enterprise,  the  un- 
conscious Knight  of  Sourdeval  was  riding  through  the 
starlit  night  from  outpost  to  outpost,  passing  the  watch- 
word himself  had  chosen  for  the  night. 

'  Corage  c  bonne  conscience^  he  said,  as  he  proved  each 
post. 

'Fait  tont  Jionwie  fort  e fier^  answered  each  sentry. 

For  Sir  Aimand,  it  must  be  admitted,  was  of  a 
romantic  cast  of  mind,  and  threw  himself  heart  and  soul 
into  the  fantastic  images  of  chivalry  which  were  then 
being  evolved  by  the  brightest  spirits  of  the  age,  and 
never  lost  an  opportunity  of  enforcing  a  good  maxim,  if 
it  were  only  in  so  small  a  matter  as  a  watchword. 

His  young  head  was  as  full  of  schemes  for  the  re- 
formation and  improvement  of  the  world  as  that  of  any 
modern  Socialist ;  and,  having  lately  met  a  palmer  who 
had  returned  from  a  visit  to  the  Holy  Sepulchre,  he  had 
fallen  a-dreaming  on  his  chances  of  ever  being  able  to 
travel  thither  himself,  a  project  which  had  haunted  him 
for  a  long  time  with  more  or  less  persistence,  and  which 
had  started  into  prominence  again  in  his  mind  since 
Eadgyth  had  given  so  discouraging  an  answer  to  his 
suit. 

Being  profoundly  religious,  he  had  been  inclined  to 
believe  that  her  answer  was  guided  by  Heaven  to  lead 
him  back  to  the  less  worldly  scheme  which  had  so  filled 


KNIGHT-ERRANT  AND  MERCENARY.  103 

hi.s  heart  before  he  met  her,  and  which  he  must  have 
laid  aside  for  an  indefinite  period,  if  not  for  ever,  if  she 
had  consented  to  wed  him  ;  and  he  found  comfort  for 
his  wounded  love  in  the  thought  that  he  was,  perhaps, 
to  attain  a  higher  spiritual  life  through  the  denial  of 
earthly  joy. 

So,  as  he  rode  under  the  sparkling  sky,  his  breast  was 
full  of  a  tender  resignation,  and  the  thought  that  he 
was  guarding  the  lady  of  his  love  caused  him  a  quiet 
satisfaction.  He  liked  to  feel  that  he  was  serving  her, 
and  vowed  to  serve  her  no  less  zealously  that  she  had 
forbidden  him  ever  to  expect  guerdon,  and  made  all 
manner  of  silent  vows  to  prove  himself  worthy  of  the 
love  he  had  asked,  and  to  live  knight-like  and  piously, 
and  do  his  devoir  to  God  and  man. 

So  noble  a  frame  of  mind  might  well  bring  forth  fruit 
of  song,  and  as  he  rode  he  hummed  snatches  of  a  lai 
which  had  taken  his  fancy  a  few  weeks  before,  when  he 
heard  it  from  the  lips  of  the  author,  a  gallant  minstrel, 
who,  like  Taillefer  the  famous,  was  also  a  knight  of 
goodly  prowess,  and  was  devoted  to  the  nobler  branches 
of  \\iQ  joyeuse  science. 

Sir  Aimand  sang  but  snatches  to  the  jingle  of  scab- 
bard and  harness,  but  this  was  the  poem  at  length : — 

TTTI',    WIIVTK    LADVE. 


Sir  Bors  went  riding  past  a  shrine, 
And  there  a  mayd  her  griefe  did  tyne. 

O  sweet  Maryc! 


I04  KNIGHT-ERRANT  AND  MERCENARY. 

A  lilye  maid  with  cheekes  all  pale, 
And  garments  whyte,  and  snowy  veil, 
Shee  bitterly  did  weepe  and  wail. 

0  dear  Marye  ! 


II. 

Sir  Bors  beheld,  and  straight  hys  brest 
For  pitye  'gainst  his  hauberke  prest. 

O  sweet  Alary e ! 
'Ladye,'  quod  hee,    'I  love  thee  soe, 
That  I  toe  Deth  wold  gladlye  goe, 
If  I  might  ease  thy  cruel  woe  ! ' 

O  dear  Marye! 

in. 

Shee  answered,   '  In  a  robber's  hold 
Lies  chained  a  comlye  knight  and  bold.' 

O  siveet  Marye! 
'  Mine  herte  is  fulle  of  dysnial  dred 
Lest  hee  be  foully  done  to  dedde. 
For  I  have  jDromised  him  to  wedde  ! ' 

O  dear  Marye ! 

IV. 

Then  grew  Sir  Bors  as  white  as  shee, 
And  never  answer  answered  hee. 

O  siveet  Marye ! 
A  cruel  stound  didde  pierce  his  brest, 
Yet  soothly  laid  hee  lance  in  rest, 
And  parted  instant  on  his  quest. 

0  dear  JSlarye  ! 


And  whilom  found  the  robber's  hold, 
And  freed  the  comlye  knight  and  bold. 

O  s"iveet  Marye  ! 
And  sette  him  on  his  own  good  steed 
(Though  inwardly  his  wounds  did  bleed). 
And  slript  his  hauberke  for  his  need, 
That  he  might  be  in  knight-like  weed. 

O  dear  Marye! 


KNIGHT-ERRANT  AND  MERCENARY.  105 

VI. 

And  ran  before  him  in  the  mire, 
That  hee  might  fitlye  have  a  squire. 

0  sweet  J/a/ye  I 
Then  when  they  reacht  the  lilye  maid, 
■  '  Behold  thy  comlye  knight ! '  he  said, 
And  saw  her  chaunge  from  white  to  redde, 
Then,  smiling,  at  her  feet  fell  dedde. 

0  dear  Marye! 

As  Sir  Aiinand  hummed  his  song,  a  secret  joy  came 
to  his  heart,  for  he  felt  that  although  his  plight  was  sad, 
being  distasteful  to  his  lady  for  his  country's  sake,  at 
least  no  'comlye  knight  and  bold'  of  any  other  nation, 
Saxon  or  Breton,  had  forestalled  him  in  her  regard  ;  of 
that  he  felt  doubly  assured,  for,  in  the  first  place,  if  it 
had  been  so,  he  felt  convinced  that  Eadgyth  would  have 
frankly  avowed  it,  when  he  begged  her  permission  to 
show  himself  at  the  tourney  as  her  knight  ;  and  secondly, 
the  expression  he  had  surprised  on  her  face  when  he 
had  refused  to  take  the  prize  bracelet. 

Suddenly  these  dreams  were  interrupted. 

The  soldier  banished  the  lover. 

Sir  Aimand  checked  his  horse,  and  stiffened  into 
rigidity,  like  a  pointer  scenting  game. 

Trot !  trot !  trot !  The  beat  of  a  horse's  tread  leav- 
ing the  camp  at  a  rapid  pace  sounded  through  the 
darkness. 

Sir  Aimand  struck  spin's  into  his  own  gallant  destrier, 
and  dashed  forward  in  the  direction  he  judged  the  horse- 
man was  taking,  endeavouring  to  intercept  him  by  cutting 
off  an  angle. 

The   trot   changed    into   a   gallop,    and    though    the 


io6  KNIGHT-ERRANT  AND  MERCENARY. 

Norman  knight  even  caught  sight  of  a  dark  figure 
hurrying  through  the  gloom,  he  soon  found  that  his 
steed  was  no  match  for  the  one  he  was  pursuing  ;  but 
Judith's  messenger  had  a  narrow  escape. 

Returning  to  the  camp,  De  Sourdeval  questioned  the 
sentries  ;  but,  finding  that  the  horseman  had  issued  from 
the  quarter  occupied  by  the  Northumbrians  in  the  retinue 
of  Earl  Waltheof,  over  which  he  had  no  jurisdiction,  he 
was  forced  unwillingly  to  let  the  matter  rest. 

Meanwhile  the  camp  had  grown  quiet.  The  sounds 
of  revelry  and  the  mighty  chorus  which  from  time  to 
time  had  burst  from  the  palace — -Sir  Aimand  little 
guessed  their  dire  import — had  ceased,  and  the  silence 
was  only  broken  by  the  occasional  neigh  of  a  horse,  or 
whinny  from  some  of  the  mules  belonging  to  the 
ecclesiastical  guests,  or  the  clash  of  a  sentinel's  spear 
against  his  shield  and  jingle  of  his  harness  as  he  paced 
his  post,  or  perhaps  some  wandering  owl  hooting  at  the 
disturbers  of  his  accustomed  hunting-grounds. 

The  east  grew  red  with  dawn,  and  Sir  Aimand  was 
relieved  from  his  watch  by  the  knight  next  on  duty,  and 
went  towards  his  own  pavilion  to  rest.  As  he  passed 
the  quarters  of  the  Breton  knights  in  the  East  Anglian 
earl's  following,  he  was  hailed  by  a  group  who  were  still 
lingering  at  the  entrance  of  one  of  the  pavilions,  and 
talking  together  rather  noisily  of  the  events  of  the 
evening.  Some  few  of  the  Bretons  were  vassals  to 
Ralph  de  Guader,  holding  lands  under  him  on  his  estates 
of  Guader  and  Montfort,  but  the  greater  number  were 
adventurers  whom    the   earl  had  gathered  round   him, 


KNIGHT-ERRANT  AND  MERCENARY.  107 

when  he  had  determined  to  defy  the  mandate  of  William 
a<7ainst  his  marriage     These  men  were  under  the  leader- 

o  o 

ship  of  one  Alain  de  Gourin,  a  bold  and  reckless  soldier 
of  fortune,  whose  guiding  principle  was  the  lining  of  his 
own  purse  and  the  obtaining  a  full  share  of  the  fat  of 
whatsoever  land  he  might  be  living  in.  Between  this 
swashbuckler  and  De  Sourdeval  but  little  love  was  lost, 
the  Norman  deeming  the  Breton  a  ruffian,  and  the 
Breton  despising  the  Norman  as  a  prig,  so  a  smothered 
enmity  was  always  between  them. 

Therefore  it  was  with  no  great  alacrity  that  Sir 
Aimand  answered  De  Gourin's  hail,  especially  as  he 
guessed  very  shrewdly  that  the  Bretons  had  not  returned 
very  steady-headed  from  the  banquet. 

'  Gramercy,  Sir  Aimand  !  Thou  hast  been  out  of  the 
world  these  six  hours,'  cried  De  Gourin,  who  had  in- 
herited the  physical  traits  of  his  Welsh  forefathers, 
having  blue,  bulging  eyes,  and  light  e}-elashcs,  and  truly 
Celtic  flaming  red  hair,  and  was  of  a  tall,  wiry  figure, 
and  capable  of  immense  endurance,  his  age  being  about 
fiftv.  'Come  hither,  lad!  We  have  such  news  for  thee 
as  will  make  th)-  heart  beat  fiister,  if  thou  hast  the  love 
of  a  true  knight  for  the  clash  of  steel  aiul  the  hope 
of  glory!  lieshrcw  me!  the  man  who  knows  how  to 
wield  his  weapon  will  ha\e  a  chance  to  'carve  his  way 
to  fortune  e'er  many  months  are  i)ast  and  gone  ! ' 

Here  a  knight  whispered  to  him  rather  anxiously. 

'Tush!  Sir  Aimand  had  been  at  the  banquet  save 
for  the  need  of  keeping  ward  on  the  camp,'  answered 
Sir  Alain.     '  I  would  have  the   pleasure  of  seeing  his 


io8  KNIGHT-ERRANT  AND  MERCENARY. 

delight ! '  he  added,  with  a  coarse  laugh,  and  half  forced 
the  Norman  to  enter  the  tent  with  him,  when,  pouring 
out  a  goblet  of  Gascon,  he  challenged  Sir  Aimand  to 
pledge  the  enterprise. 

'  Nay !  First  I  must  know  what  it  is,'  said  the 
Norman. 

'  To  unseat  that  upstart  and  usurper,  William  the 
Bastard,  from  his  ill-gotten  seat  on  the  throne  of 
England,  and  to  put  a  better  man  in  his  place,'  answered 
Sir  Alain  in  a  hectoring  tone;  'and  to  win  for  ourselves 
such  good  shares  of  the  lands  as  is  due  to  our  valorous 
lances.' 

Sir  Aimand  started  back,  looking  fixedly  at  the 
Breton,  and  his  hand  instinctively  sought  his  sword- 
hilt  ;  but  in  a  moment  he  regained  his  composure. 

'  Methinks  the  earl's  somewhat  ponderous  Saxon 
hospitality  has  turned  thy  hot  brains  a  bit,  Sir  Alain,' 
he  said  contemptuously.  '  Neither  thou  nor  I  are  likely 
to  drink  that  pledge  ! ' 

Sir  Alain  smiled  at  him  with  an  evil  smile,  but  he 
kept  his  temper.  '  St.  Nicholas  !  But  every  man  here 
has  drunk  it  this  evening,  and  every  man  who  sat  at 
Ralph  de  Guader's  marriage  board  ;  and,  sooth  to  say, 
if  thou  hadst  been  present  to  hear  the  list  of  that  same 
William's  crimes  that  were  brought  up  against  him, 
methinks  so  virtuous  a  knight  as  thvself  had  drunk  it 
too,  with  a  rider  to  vow  that  such  vermin  were  best 
exterminated  from  the  earth.' 

'  It  is  true,  De  Sourdeval !  All  drank  the  pledge, — 
Normans,  Bretons,  and   Saxons,'  chorused  the  knights 


KNIGHT-ERRANT  AND  MERCENARY.  109 

around.     'We  are  under  oath  to  pull  William  from  the 
throne  and  set  up  Waltheof  in  his  stead.' 

*  It  cannot  be  ! '  cried  Sir  Aimand,  overwhelmed.  '  It 
is  treachery !  The  earl  cannot  be  guilty  of  such 
baseness  ! ' 

*  And  who  art  thou  to  stigmatise  as  baseness  what  so 
many  men  as  good  as  thee  hold  fit  and  good  ? '  chorused 
the  Bretons. 

'  By  the  rood  !  ye  are  scarcely  fair  to  the  lad,'  said  one 
somewhat  more  sober  than  his  companions.  '  The  com- 
munication is  sudden,  to  say  the  least.  Neither  did  he 
hear  the  eloquent  catalogue  of  William's  faults  which 
wrought  our  blood  to  the  boiling  point.'  , 

'  Nor  would  I  have  listened  to  a  word  of  it ! '  cried 
Sir  Aimand  fiercely.  '  I  would  have  thrown  down  my 
gauntlet  had  it  been  the  earl  himself  who  traduced  his 
h'ege  lord  and  king  !  And  what  were  ye  for  leal  knights, 
fair  sirs,  that  ye  gave  ear  to  such  treason  ? ' 

'  Look  ye,  my  galliard,'  said  Alain  de  Gourin  con- 
temptuously, '  I  should  advise  you  to  drop  that  hero  of 
romaunt  strain,  for  it  is  a  little  out  of  fashion  here  and 
now.  By  my  halidom,  thou  wilt  scarce  find  a  foot-page 
in  the  whole  camp  that  will  support  thee!  The  fell- 
monger's  grandson  has  carried  his  tyrannies  a  little  too 
far  even  for  the  patient  stomachs  of  his  servile  Normans 
at  last  ;  and  as  for  us  Bretons,  wc  have  long  bided  our 
time  to  pay  him  out  for  those  dishes  of  Italian  soup  to 
which  he  treated  Counts  Alain  and  Conan.' 

'  I  will  never  drop  the  strain  whilst  I  have  breath  in 
my  body  ! '  said   Sir  Aimand  stoutly.     '  Perhaps,  when 


1 1  o  KNIGHT-ERRA  NT  A  ND  MERCENA  R  V. 

the  morning  comes,  it  will  be  you  who  will  pipe  to  a 
different  tune,  fair  sirs.  Let  me  pass,  gentlemen  ;  I 
would  go  to  my  pavilion.' 

'  Not  so  fast ! '  answered  Sir  Alain,  interposing  his 
bulky  person  betwixt  De  Sourdeval  and  the  door  of  the 
tent.  '  Not  until  thou  hast  drunk  the  pledge  !  It  would 
be  scarce  politic  to  let  loose  so  puissant  a  knight  while 
he  declares  himself  hostile  to  our  enterprise.' 

Sir  Alain  and  the  most  part  of  the  Bretons  were  in 
their  banqueting  robes,  armed  only  with  swords  and 
daggers,  but  a  half-dozen,  at  least,  had  prepared  for 
duty,  and  were  in  full  harness,  and  these  closed  round 
tlipir  leader,  and  barred  Sir  Aimand's  retreat. 

'  Sirs,'  said  De  Sourdeval,  '  ye  are  six  to  one,  without 
counting  unarmed  men.  If  you  stand  not  at  treason  to 
your  king-lord,  ye  will  scarce  be  particular  in  giving  fair 
play  to  one  who  is  true  to  him.  But  I  tell  you  that  ye 
shall  not  force  me  into  complicity  with  your  traitorous 
plans  if  ye  hack  every  limb  from  my  body.  And  I  will 
sell  my  life  dearly,  since  every  blow  I  strike  will  be  for 
my  liege  as  well  as  for  myself.' 

'  Thou  young  fool ! '  returned  De  Gourin,  '  we  have 
no  wish  to  hurt  a  hair  of  thy  head.  Thou  needest  not 
drink  the  pledge  if  it  irks  thee,  but  for  our  own  sakes 
we  must  shut  thy  mouth  in  one  way  or  other.  Resist- 
ance to  such  odds  is  madness.  Yield  thyself  a  prisoner, 
and  the  worst  that  will  befall  thee  is  a  limited  sphere  of 
action  till  such  time  as  we  can  honourably  exchange 
thee  against  any  of  our  members  who  may  get  into 
William's  clutches.' 


KNIGHT-ERRANT  AND  MERCENAR  Y.  1 1  t 

*  Honourably! '  repeated  Sir  Aimand  furiously.  'When 
the  combat  is  begun  by  throwing  honour  and  devoir 
and  all  knightly  fairness  to  the  winds  ! ' 

'  By  the  devil's  own  horns !  thou  carriest  the  matter 
too  far  for  my  patience  ! '  cried  De  Gourin.  '  Fight  for 
it,  then,  if  thou  wilt !  '  Drawing  his  sword,  he  made  a 
tremendous  blow  at  Sir  Aimand,  who  parried  without 
returning  it. 

'  I  fight  not  with  unarmed  men  ! '  said  Sir  Aimand, 
and  obtained  a  cheer  from  the  onlookers,  who  dropped 
the  points  of  their  own  swords,  as  if  rather  ashamed  of 
the  business. 

'  Nay,  if  thou  likest  it  better,  and  none  of  these  men 
will  suit  thee,  I  will  go  and  put  on  my  harness,'  said  De 
Gourin. 

'  It  is  not  I  who  hesitate ! '  flung  back  Sir  Aimand, 
for  his  blood  was  up,  and  he  threw  prudence  to  the 
winds. 

'  Well  crowed,  Sir  Victor  of  the  Tourney  ! '  cried  Sir 
Alain  mockingly.  '  Thou  hast  already  unhorsed  singly 
more  than  one  of  us,  why  shouldst  thou  be  awed  by 
our  combination  ?  Sir  Mordred  here  cut  a  shrewdly 
laughable  figure  when  thy  thrust  caught  his  jowl  two 
days  agone !  Methinks  his  teeth  must  chatter  yet! 
No  wonder  he  pauses  before  attacking  so  doughty  a 
champion ! ' 

Sir  Mordred,  stung  by  the  taunt,  advanced  on  De 
Sourdeval  and  attacked  him  fiercely  ;  but  the  Norman 
held  his  own,  surpassing  him  both  in  strength  and  skill  ; 
and  in  a  few  moments  Sir  Mordred  fell  to  the  ground. 


1 1 2  KNIGHT- ERR  A  NT  AND  MERCENA  R  Y. 

cured  for  ever  of  the  toothache  or  any  other  ache  that 
flesh  is  heir  to. 

His  comrades,  with  a  savage  howl,  closed  on  Sir 
Aimand,  and,  overwhelmed  by  numbers,  he  was  borne 
down,  and  lay  senseless  and  bleeding  beside  his  slain 
foe. 

Meanwhile  Judith's  messenger  was  speeding  on  his 
way  to  the  Primate,  while  the  unfortunate  knight  who 
had  striven  so  hard  to  stop  him  was  thus  foully  en- 
treated, lest  he  should  himself  be  the  bearer  of  some 
such  message. 


CHAPTER  IX. 


NORWICH. 


Al<"TER  the  bride-ale  the  splendid  company  parted, 
mainly  in  three  great  divisions :  Earl  Waltheof  and 
his  following  to  the  north  ;  Earl  Roger  to  the  west ; 
Earl  Ralph  with  his  bride,  his  Norman  knights,  and 
Breton  vassals  and  mercenaries,  his  Anglo  -  Saxon 
vassals  and  sympathisers,  to  the  east  ;  a  few  minor 
parties  of  independent  barons,  knights,  and  thegns  going 
their  several  ways. 

The  Earl  of  Norfolk  and  Suffolk  and  his  train  rode 
forth  along  the  old  Roman  Ikenield  Street,  which  ran 
then  an  uninterrupted  course  from  within  a  few  miles  of 
Exning  to  Norwich. 

Do  Guader  rode  beside  his  young  countess  on  a  gentle 
hacqucnce,  which  paced  quietly  beside  her  palfrey,  and 
did  not  break  in  upon  their  converse  by  any  pranks  of 
his  own,  his  squire  leading  the  fiery  Oliver,  and  an 
attendant  following  with  a  mule  carrying  his  armour, 
lance,  and  spear. 

It  may  well  be  supposed  thai  llie  noble  bridegroom 

spared  no  pains  to  make  the  time  pass  pleasantly  for 

his  young  countess,  which,  under  the  circumstances,  was 

11 


114  NORWICH. 

no  difficult  task,  for  the  mid-May  weather  was  deHght- 
ful,  and  whether  they  rode  over  heaths  or  through  the 
forests,  which  then  spread  over  the  greater  part  of 
the  country,  they  were  surrounded  with  flowers  and  the 
song  of  birds.  The  yellow  gorse  was  gorgeous  in  the 
open,  filling  the  air  with  its  almond  scent,  and  the 
whin-chats  fluttered  from  bush  to  bush,  trying  to  lure 
them  away  from  the  spot  that  hid  their  nests.  Over- 
head the  larks  carolled  and  the  sparrow-hawks  poised 
motionless,  while  round  and  about  them  darted  the 
busy  swallows. 

Where  they  passed  a  homestead,  fruit-trees  were  gay 
with  blossom,  apple  and  cherry  and  pear,  and  the 
sweet-breathed  kine  were  standing  in  the  meadows, 
knee-deep  in  the  flower-jewelled  grasses,  for  was  it  not 
Tri-milki,  the  month  when  cows  are  milked  thrice  in  the 
day,  according  to  the  quaint  old  Anglo-Saxon  calendar? 
Now  and  again  they  met  a  shepherd  with  a  flock  of 
ewes  and  lambs,  or,  more  often,  the  inevitable  Saxon 
swineherd  with  his  grunting  pigs. 

But  alas !  they  passed  more  often  the  blackened 
ruins  where  a  homestead  had  once  been,  for  the  curse  of 
war  had  desolated  the  land.  Over  the  thatchless  rafters 
hung  the  white  branches  of  the  flowering  May,  the  more 
like  snow,  because  no  girlish  fingers  had  stripped  them 
to  deck  Maypoles. 

They  journeyed  also  through  many  a  mile  of  forest  land, 
where  the  great  trees  interlaced  their  boughs  into  the 
beautiful  arches  which  the  Gothic  architect  imitated  so 
well  in  stone,  and  the  wild  birds  thronged  in  undisturbed 


NORWICH.  115 

security,  countless  in  kind  and  number,  and  the  antlered 
stags  trotted  nimbly  down  the  glades. 

The  greenwood  in  those  days,  however,  had  its  dangers 
as  well  as  its  delights.  Wolves  and  boars  and  wild 
cattle  shared  its  shelter  with  the  feathered  songsters  ; 
and  more  formidable  still  were  the  indomitable  Saxons, 
who  had  sought  refuge  in  the  wilderness,  and  made  war 
without  mercy  on  such  of  the  conquering  race  as  tres- 
passed on  their  domain.  Many  a  Saxon  thegn,  who  had 
lost  house  and  land  in  the  great  struggle  against  the 
Norman  invader,  had  retired  into  the  woods,  and  there 
lived  the  life  of  a  freebooter,  some  taking  with  them  not 
only  their  families,  but  their  vassals  and  retainers.  To 
be  an  outlaw  was  accounted  an  honour  by  these  men, 
who  would  not  acknowledge  the  right  of  the  law-makers 
to  command.  They  swarmed  even  under  the  walls  of 
the  Norman  castles,  and  harassed  the  conquerors  con- 
tinually. Retaliation  was  sanguinary,  and  the  unarmed 
peasants  were  punished  under  pretext  that  they  harboured 
the  outlaws.  In  return,  the  kings  of  the  forest  attacked 
the  English  households  who  favoured  the  Nermans,  and 
every  house  was  fortified  to  resist  a  siege,  and  stores  of 
arms  and  food  were  laid  in  ;  at  night  the  head  of  the 
family  read  aloud  the  form  of  prayer  then  used  at  sea 
in  a  storm,  praying  '  The  Lord  bless  and  help  us,'  to 
which  all  present  answered  'Amen.' 

But  the  strong  and  well-armed  retinue  that  accom- 
panied the  Earl  of  East  Anglia's  party  assured  safety, 
and  the  most  timid  amongst  the  ladies  could  fear  no 
harm  while  surrounded  by  so  many  gallant  knights  in 


ii6  NORWICH. 

all  the  pride  and  panoply  of  glorious  war !  They  made 
a  goodly  sight  as  they  moved  along,  the  sunshine 
flashing  on  their  mail  hauberks  and  high-peaked  steel 
saddles,  and  the  wind  fluttering  the  gonfalons  on  their 
lances,  their  well-appointed  horses  snorting  and  curvet- 
ting, a  strong  body  of  men-at-arms,  bowmen,  and 
slingers  following  afoot. 

Doubtless  many  a  Saxon  serf  and  bordar  cursed  them 
as  they  passed,  not  knowing  that  the  powerful  earl  who 
led  them  had  avowed  himself  champion  of  the  Saxon 
cause,  and  meant  once  more  to  raise  the  standard  of 
revolt. 

Doubtless  many  a  stout  forester  peered  at  them 
from  behind  the  shelter  of  green  leaves,  and  raged 
with  impotent  anger  at  their  strength. 

Perhaps  others  greeted  them  with  courtesy  and  proffers 
of  friendship  and  offerings  of  game,  for  the  outlaws  con- 
trived to  be  wonderfully  well  informed  of  the  march  of 
events,  and  De  Guader  was  keenly  alive  to  the  desira- 
bility of  making  all  possible  allies  amongst  the  scattered 
English,  and  did  not  neglect  the  brave  spirits  who  had 
taken  to  the  wilds  rather  than  submit,  and  who  wielded 
so  strong  a  weapon  in  possessing  the  love  of  the  common 
people. 

However  that  might  have  been,  they  journeyed  safely 
through  wood  and  wold,  going  slowly  to  suit  the  comfort 
of  the  ladies,  and  the  capacity  of  the  sumpter  mules,  and 
revelling  in  the  bright  spring  weather. 

Amongst  the  knights  who  pressed  round  them 
Eadgyth  looked  in  vain  for  the  figure  of  Sir  Aimand 


NORWICH.  117 

de  Sourdeval.  Emma,  happy  with  her  bridegroom,  took 
no  notice  of  his  absence,  till,  on  the  second  day  of  their 
journey,  the  earl  having  left  her  side  to  give  some 
necessary  orders  to  his  train,  she  saw  that  Eadgyth  was 
sad  and  silent,  and  remembered  that  the  hero  of  the 
tourney  had  not  appeared  in  the  ranks  of  their  escort. 
She  surmised  that  it  was  likely  he  had  purposely  avoided 
companionship  which  could  only  lead  to  pain,  and  had 
contrived  to  fulfil  some  other  duty  ;  so,  when  the  earl 
rode  up  to  her  side  again,  she  put  some  light  question 
to  him  regarding  the  knight,  and  was  surprised  to  see 
his  face  grow  dark  as  thunder.  He  answered  briefly, 
however,  that  Sir  Aimand  was  detained  on  business  of 
weight,  and  lunma,  rather  perplexed,  did  not  venture 
to  question  him  further.  At  the  moment  the  jester 
Grillonne  ambled  up,  mounted  on  a  piebald  nag  with  a 
chuckle-head  and  goose -rump,  and  cut  capers  which 
made  both  earl  and  countess  laugh,  so  that  the  poor 
Knight  of  Sourdeval  was  banished  from  Emma's 
thoughts. 

On  the  evening  of  the  fourth  day  they  came  in  sight 
of  the  churches  and  trees  of  Norwich,  with  the  newly- 
built  Castle  Blaunchcflour  rising  in  stately  strength 
above  them  (for  no  cathedral  spire  dwarfed  it  then),  the 
brilliant  beams  of  the  setting  sun  gilding  its  snowy 
towers,  and  lighting  the  .square  mass  of  the  loft}-  keep, 
which  still,  after  eight  hundred  years  of  war  and  weather, 
stands  firm  and  solid  on  its  throne  above  the  city.^ 

Emma  exclaimed   in  delight  \\\\q.\\  she  first  came   in 
^  See  Appendix,  Note  B. 


ii8  NORWICH. 

sight  of  this  goodly  castle,  which  brought  home  to  her 
pleasantly  the  power  and  wealth  of  her  noble  husband. 

'A  garrison  of  five  hundred  might  hold  it  for  ever!' 
cried  Ralph  enthusiastically,  '  if  only  manna  would  fall 
from  the  skies  to  feed  them,  or  that  they  might  be  fed 
by  a  San  Graal.  That  reminds  me,  sweet,  thou  wilt  like 
to  hear  my  minstrel  tell  the  story  of  Blauncheflour, 
who  was  the  betrothed  of  Percivale,  the  searcher  for 
the  Graal.  The  fair  white  walls,  faced  with  goodly 
Caen  stone,  seemed  to  me  in  their  invincible  dignity 
to  resemble  a  pure  maiden,  so  I  named  them  after 
her.' 

Norwich  in  those  days  was  surrounded  by  broad  and 
deep  streams,  at  least  five  times  as  wide  as  its  present 
modest  rivers,  and  the  chroniclers  of  Edward  the  Con- 
fessor's day  record  that  the  fisher-folk  suffered  terribly 
through  the  receding  of  the  waters.  A  sandbank  some 
distance  out  at  sea  was  just  emerging  where  Yarmouth 
now  stands,  and  sea-going  vessels  could  make  their  way 
past  the  walls  of  Blauncheflour. 

The  level  of  the  water  was  many  feet  above  its 
present  mark,  and  the  castle  was  surrounded,  and 
rendered  very  strong,  by  deep  ditches  of  early  British 
construction,  on  a  similar  scheme  to  those  traced  at 
Rising,  Castleacre,  and  many  other  places,  where  Norman 
architects  had  availed  themselves  of  the  earthworks 
constructed  by  earlier  peoples.  The  castle  was  sur- 
rounded by  the  circular  moat  which  still  exists,  while  a 
large  horseshoe  fosse  extended  to  the  south,  covering 
the  great  gate  of  the  castle,  which  was  at  the  foot  of 


NORWICH,  119 

the  existing  bridge,  which  is  of  Saxon  construction,  and 
measures  forty  feet  in  the  span,  being  the  largest  remain- 
ing arch  raised  by  that  people. 

The  great  gate  was  a  strong  and  imposing  structure, 
and  had  four  towers,  two  at  the  base  and  two  at  the 
top  of  the  bridge,  and  was  the  only  entrance  to  the 
upper  ballium,  which  was  guarded  by  eleven  strong 
towers,  and  contained  various  halls  and  lodgings,  beside 
the  great  keep,  which  is  all  that  remains  to  us. 

The  fortress  might  well  look  imposing,  with  its  moats 
and  earthworks,  strengthened  by  strong  palisadings  of 
wood,  its  formidable  walls  and  gate-houses  dominated 
by  the  great  square  tower,  with  many  a  pennon  waving 
from  the  topmost  points,  and  warders  marching  to  and 
fro  on  the  battlements,  their  glittering  mail  shining  in 
the  sun. 

Norwich  was  not  a  city  then,  the  see  of  the  Bishop  of 
East  Anglia  being  at  Elmham,  but  there  was  a  monastic 
church  called  Christ's  Church  where  the  present  cathedral 
stands,  and  the  bishop  had  a  palace  on  the  site  of  the 
well-known  Maid's  Head  Inn  of  the  present,  the  walls 
of  which  were  lapped  by  the  river. 

Hcrfast,  who  held  the  see  from  1070  to  1076,  had 
been  chaplain  to  William  the  Conqueror  when  he  was 
Duke  of  Normandy.  It  may  be  that  lie  somewhat 
favoured  Ralph  de  Guader,  or  chose  to  be  blind  to  the 
doings  of  the  turbulent  earl,  for,  though  Norman  of  the 
Normans,  he  bitterly  hated  Lanfranc,  who  had  once 
exposed  his  ignorance  to  pitiless  scorn,  and  who  un- 
sparingly  denounced    his  vices,  bidding   him   'to  give 


I20  NORWICH. 

over  dice-playing,  not  to  speak  of  graver  misconduct,  in 
which  you  are  said  to  waste  the  whole  day  ; '  and  bade 
him  '  study  theology  and  the  decrees  of  the  Roman 
Pontiffs,  and  to  give  especial  attention  to  the  sacred 
canons.'  Also  to  '  dismiss  certain  monks  of  evil  reputa- 
tion.' At  all  events,  he  does  not  appear  to  have  been 
an  active  opponent  to  the  East  Anglian  earl,  and  it 
may  be  that  he  was  not  sorry  that  the  archbishop  he  so 
much  disliked  should  have  a  little  trouble  during  his 
time  of  temporal  power. 

In  the  Domesday  survey,  made  eleven  years  later, 
ioS6,  fifty-four  churches  are  recorded,  and  1565  burgesses 
and  480  bordars  were  among  the  inhabitants.  The 
town  was  probably  larger  in  1075,  ^s  it  suffered  much 
during  the  subsequent  siege,  and  many  an  entry  of 
'  Wasta]  '  tvasta,'  '  zvasfa,'  bears  testimony  to  the  sorrow 
Ralph  de  Guader  brought  upon  the  place. 

Where  the  busy  market-place  is  now,  spread  broad 
meadows  for  the  castle  use,  called  the  Magna  Crofta  or 
castle  fee,  and  through  them  ran  a  stream,  having  its 
rise  on  All  Saints'  Green,  and  flowing  across  the  present 
site  of  Davey  Place  to  the  river.  The  quiet  Quaker 
burial  ground  occupies  the  Jousting  Acre,  or  Gilden  Croft, 
where  many  a  noble  knight  gave  or  received  a  broken 
head  in  sheer  good  fellowship  and  amiable  love  of 
fighting  ;  and  many  a  fair  lady  encouraged  the  giver 
with  smiles,  or  wept  for  the  receiver.  So  the  lovers  of 
peace  sleep  calmly  under  the  sod  that  once  was  trampled 
by  the  eager  steeds  of  the  men-at-arms. 

Such  was  the  Norwich  to  which   Ralph  de   Guader 


NORWICH.  121 

brought  home  his  bride ;  and,  as  they  entered  it,  the 
knights  ill  their  retinue  pricked  their  jaded  steeds  and 
stirred  their  mettle,  that  they  might  prance  sufficiently 
gaily.  The  trumpeters  flourished  their  trumpets,  to 
give  notice  to  the  good  people  that  their  earl  and  his 
bride  were  approaching,  and,  though  travel-stained  and 
weary,  the  cavalcade  made  a  brave  appearance. 

Rich  and  poor,  Normans,  Saxons,  Danes,  Flemings, 
and  Jews,  all  of  which  nations  were  represented  in  the 
town, — the  last-named  having  made  their  first  appear- 
ance therein  at  the  heels  of  the  Norman  invaders,  and 
being  hated  accordingly, — crowded  into  the  streets  to 
welcome  and  admire  the  bride  and  bridegroom,  or,  at 
the  least,  to  render  that  homage  which  circumstances 
rendered  politic. 

For  it  must  be  remembered  that  the  dignity  of  the 
powerful  Earl  of  East  Anglia  was  almost  royal.  The 
feudal  king  was  'first  among  peers,'  and  the  earls  came 
next  to  him  ;  even  so  late  as  the  reign  of  Queen  Elizabeth 
the  parliamentary  formula  of  ro)al  speeches  was,  '  My 
right  loving  Lords,  and  you,  my  right  faithful  and 
obedient  subjects.' 

The  '  Ykenilde  weie'  entered  Norwich  where  afterwards 
stood  the  Brazen  Doors,  passing  by  All  Saints'  Green 
to  the  Castle  Hill  ;  the  cavalcade  so  entering  what  was 
called  the  New  Burg,  consisting  of  Norman  dwellings 
erected  since  the  Conquest,  which,  then  as  now,  took  its 
name  from  the  Chapel  in  the  h^'eld,  and  included  the 
parishes  of  St.  Giles  and  St.  Stephen's.  Here  the 
enthusiasm   was  effusive,  and   a  well-dressed  populace 


122  NORWICH. 

waved  caps  of  rich  fur  in  the  air,  while  silken  hangings 
and  gay  banners  waved  from  the  windows. 

It  was  with  mingled  feelings  that  Eadgyth  of  Norwich 
re-entered  her  birthplace  in  the  train  of  the  Norman 
lady.  All  her  loving  recollections  were  embittered  by 
the  sight  of  changes  that  reminded  her  of  the  sufferings 
of  her  people  and  the  ruin  of  their  cause,  and  the  tears 
came  into  her  eyes  when  she  compared  the  welcoming 
crowd  of  foreigners  that  shouted  around  her  with  the 
scenes  stamped  on  her  childish  memory,  when  she  had 
seen  the  stalwart  Danes  and  Saxons  gather  to  greet 
Harold  Godwinsson,  and  heard  their  loud  '  Waes  hael ! ' 

Storms  of  anger  and  jealous  misery  moved  her  as  she 
passed  through  the  New  Burg,  for  the  smart  dwellings 
on  each  side  of  the  street  had  all  been  built  since  the 
Conquest,  and  showed  the  wealth  of  the  invader.  As 
they  approached  the  castle,  her  heart  sank  more  and 
more.  It  seemed  to  her  as  if  its  heavy  foundations  had 
been  laid  upon  her  breast,  so  cruelly  did  it  bring  home 
to  her  the  strength  of  the  yoke  which  was  riveted  upon 
the  necks  of  her  people.  For  in  architecture  more  than 
in  any  art  did  the  Normans  excel  the  people  they 
conquered,  and  though  the  moats  had  been  there  when 
Harold  was  earl,  the  fortress  within  them  was  but  a 
rude  structure. 

When  they  reached  the  castle  gate,  a  lively  scene  was 
enacted.  The  garrison  marched  down  to  salute  the  earl 
and  his  bride,  led  by  the  castellan  on  a  prancing 
charger,  and  forming  in  glittering  lines  on  either  side 
the  Bale.      There  were   companies  of  archers  clad  in 


NORWICH.  123 

mail  coats  reaching  halfway  to  the  knee,  over  which  they 
wore  jerkins  of  stout  leather,  their  cll-long  shafts  stuck 
through  their  belts,  and  their  bows  of  yew,  ash,  witch- 
hazel,  or  elm,  held  in  their  right  hands,  and  capable  of 
despatching  the  arrows  to  a  distance  of  from  200  to 
300  yards,  with  little  steel-caps  on  their  heads  shaped 
much  like  the  prim  head-coverings  worn  by  the  Puritan 
maidens  of  later  times ;  and  men-at-arms,  shining  from 
head  to  foot  in  chain  mail,  or  with  little  steel  rings  sewn 
thickly  upon  leather,  armed  with  straight  swords  about 
a  yard  in  length,  and  wearing  helms  like  upset  saucers  ; 
others  less  heavily  armed,  bearing  oval  shields  and  long 
lances,  their  shoulders  and  chests  protected  by  glittering 
capes  of  scale  armour;  and  others  again,  still  more 
slightly  armed,  with  lighter  lances,  and  small  round 
shields  not  larger  than  dinner-plates,  with  which  to 
baulk  a  lance  thrust ;  slingers,  with  light  tunics  reaching 
to  the  knee,  and  little  or  no  armour,  their  weapon  a  long 
pole  provided  with  a  loop,  from  which  the  practised 
hand  could  sling  stones  with  great  force  and  precision. 
A  good  two-thirds  of  the  archers  and  slingers  were 
Bretons ;  for  the  men  of  Bretagne  were  famed  bowmen, 
and  furnished  the  chief  contingent  of  the  archers  who 
did  so  much  execution  at  Senlac. 

Besides  these  there  were  the  engineers,  who  worked 
the  mangonels  and  catapults,  and  a  large  troop  of  smiths 
and  armourers,  whose  duty  it  was  to  repair  with  hammer 
and  anvil  the  damage  done  by  wear  and  war  to  the 
accoutrements  of  these  various  gentry, — in  all  some  two 
to  three  hundred  men. 


124  NORWICH. 

They  rent  the  air  with  a  great  cheer,  as  they  formed 
in  Hne  before  the  carl  and  countess  and  their  retinue  ; 
and  the  castellan,  Sir  Hoel  de  St.  Brice,  a  knight  who 
had  grown  grey  in  the  service  of  the  Lords  of  Guader 
and  Montfort,  and  who  had  fought  under  the  father  of 
Ralph's  Breton  mother,  gave  the  cue,  with  a  compliment 
to  the  bride. 

'  Long  live  the  daughter  of  William  Fitzosbern ! ' 
he  cried,  whereat  the  soldiers  cheered  again. 

Emma  smiled  and  bowed,  and  tried  to  pay  them 
equal  compliments  in  return. 

'With  such  a  castle,  and  such  gallant  defenders,'  she 
said,  'fear  would  be  impossible,  even  if  the  blood  of  the 
veriest  coward  ran  in  her  veins  instead  of  that  of  a  hero.' 

Whereat  they  gave  still  louder  cheers,  and  vowed 
that  they  would  spend  every  drop  of  their  blood  to 
defend  her  if  need  were. 

Then  the  earl  treated  them  to  a  little  harangue. 

'  He  knew  they  meant  what  they  said,'  he  told  them, 
'  for  he  had  seen  them  fight,  not  only  from  behind  stone 
walls,  but  hand  to  hand  on  the  field  of  Hastings  ; '  and 
added,  'that  he  was  glad  he  knew  their  metal,  for 
perhaps  it  would  be  rung  sooner  than  they  looked  for.' 
An  announcement  received  with  vociferous  delight  by 
the  wild  men  of  war,  who  scarce  thought  life  worth 
living  in  time  of  peace,  and  looked  to  the  giving  and 
taking  of  shrewd  blows  both  for  amusement  and  fortune, 
caring  little  in  what  cause  they  were  bestowed. 

While  this  took  place,  Eadgyth  had  turned  her  eyes 
to  the  south-cast,  the  old  portion  of  the  town  looking 


NORWICH.  125 

over  to  the  Thorpe  marshes,  where  the  bright  Mary 
buds  '  had  oped  their  golden  eyes,'  and  the  willows  were 
white  with  catkins,  and  the  Thorpe  woods  were  in  their 
fresh  verdure.  An  overwhelming  sense  of  desolation 
came  upon  her  as  she  marked  the  old  familiar  objects 
among  which  her  childhood  had  been  passed — and  more 
forcibly  as  she  noted  the  absence  of  others.  She  drew 
her  veil  across  her  face,  lest  it  should  be  seen  that  she 
was  weeping. 

The  cavalcade  moved  on  again.  Sir  Hocl  riding  by 
the  earl's  side.  They  passed  into  the  northern  end  of 
King  Street,  and  so  to  the  ancient  palace  of  the  East 
Anglian  earls,  which  stood  where  the  St.  Ethelbert  Gate 
is  now,  and  had  a  chapel  dedicated  to  that  saint,  who 
had  been  a  king  of  the  East  Angles,  He  was  murdered 
by  Offa,  King  of  Mercia,  at  the  instigation  of  his  wife 
Quendrida.  The  head  of  the  victimised  prince  rolled 
down  as  his  body  was  being  carried  away  ;  a  blind  man 
stumbled  over  it,  and,  accidentally  touching  his  eyeballs 
with  the  blood,  received  his  sight  again.  A  well  sprang 
up  where  the  head  fell.     So  runs  the  legend. 

At  the  palace  they  were  received  by  a  gaily-clad  host 
of  servants  and  retainers.  Brave  squires  and  smart 
pages,  portly  bursar  and  anxious  steward,  cellarers, 
cooks,  and  scullions  ;  stately  dames  and  pretty  bower- 
maidens,  tirewomen,  dairy  and  grinding-maids  (for  in 
those  days  windmills  had  not  been  invented,  so  'woman's 
sphere'  included  the  grinding  of  flour  in  a  hand-mill), — 
these,  and  many  more,  stood  waiting  in  order  of  their 
rank,  and  dressed  in  their  bravest  apparel. 


126  NORWICH. 

Behind  the  earl's  household  was  a  still  larger  company 
of  socmen  and  slaves  from  the  nine  manors  which 
William  of  Normandy  had  bestowed  on  Ralph  de 
Guader  when  he  gave  him  the  East  Anglian  earldom, 
making  altogether  a  goodly  crowd  of  retainers  ;  and 
we  may  guess  how  they  all  strained  forward  to  catch 
the  first  glimpse  of  the  noble  young  bride  their  lord 
was  bringing  home,  and  how  Emma,  though  well  used 
to  homage,  was  glad  to  bow  her  fair  head  under  excuse 
of  courtesy,  and  so  hide  her  glowing  face  from  so  many 
curious  eyes. 

On  the  plain  before  the  palace,  opposite  St.  Michael's 
Chapel  (Tombland),  six  fine  beeves  were  roasting  whole 
for  the  entertainment  of  the  populace,  and  a  tun  of 
wine  and  several  fat  barrels  of  ale  were  broached,  where- 
with throats  that  had  grown  hoarse  with  shouting 
welcome  should  be  refreshed. 

So  came  Emma,  Countess  of  Norfolk  and  Suffolk,  to 
her  new  home  in  Norwich,  where  she  was  to  spend  but 
a  few  short  months  full  of  terror,  suffering,  and  sorrow, 
and  by  her  bearing  under  misfortune  to  prove  herself 
the  worthy  daughter  of  her  noble  sire,  and  to  be  known 
in  the  pages  of  history  as  the  heroine  of  the  most 
romantic  incident  in  the  annals  of  Norwich  Castle. 


CHAPTER  X. 

LANFRANC,   PRIMATE   OF   ALL   ENGLAND. 

Waltiieof,  instead  of  continuing  his  journey  north- 
ward, left  his  retinue  privily,  and,  with  as  small  a 
following  as  the  state  of  the  country  rendered  imperative, 
made  his  way  to  Canterbury  and  craved  audience  of 
the  Primate,  appealing  to  him  in  the  double  capacity 
of  a  spiritual  father,  and,  for  the  time,  while  King 
William  should  be  absent,  as  a  temporal  superior  also, 
the  archbishop  having  been  appointed  justiciary  of  the 
kingdom  in  conjunction  with  Robert,  Earl  of  Morton, 
and  Geoffry,  Bishop  of  Coutances. 

After  certain  ceremonious  delays,  he  was  received. 
Lanfranc,  Archbishop  of  Canterbiu-y  and  Primate  of  all 
England,  was  a  man  of  high  character  and  subtle 
intellect,  uniting  the  business  capacities  and  breadth  of 
view  of  the  man  of  the  world,  to  the  piety  and  earnestness 
of  a  sincere  churchman. 

A  Lombard  by  birth,  he  had  attained  eminence  in  his 
youth  as  a  law  student  at  I'avia.  His  birth  was  not 
noble,  but  his  parents  were  said  to  have  been  of 
senatorial  rank,  which  indicated  a  good  social  position. 
His  eloquence  as  a  lawyer  was  so  great,  that  he  triumphed 

127 


128  LANFRANC. 

over  veteran  opponents,  and  soon  became  famous.  Italy, 
however,  was  at  that  time  torn  by  dissensions,  and  he 
was  early  involved  in  political  quarrels,  so  that  he  deemed 
it  wise  to  quit  the  arena  of  his  forensic  triumphs,  and 
to  seek  the  less  genial  but  safer  climate  of  Normandy. 
Here  he  soon  attained  high  eminence,  and  opened  a 
school  at  Avranches,  to  which  scholars  came  in  crowds ; 
but  suddenly  the  illustrious  advocate  disappeared,  and 
no  one  knew  whither. 

He  was  discovered,  some  three  years  later,  living  the 
life  of  a  penitent  in  the  secluded  monastery  of  Bee,  a 
small  establishment  founded  by  his  countryman  Herluin, 
but  which  afterwards  became  famous  throujjh  having- 
supplied  Canterbury  with  three  archbishops.  After  a 
time,  Lanfranc  became  the  prior  of  Bee,  and  was  as 
much  sought  as  a  religious  teacher  as  he  had  hitherto 
been  as  a  lawyer. 

In  his  newly-awakened  zeal,  Lanfranc  took  it  upon 
him  to  denounce  the  intended  marriage  of  the  Duke  of 
Normandy  with  Matilda  of  Flanders  ;  the  Pope  having 
threatened  excommunication,  as  the  couple  were  within 
the  prohibited  degrees  of  relationship. 

One  line  day,  the  quiet  monks  of  Bee,  working  in  their 
garden  amongst  their  cabbages  and  onions,  were  surprised 
by  the  advent  of  a  gay  company  of  knights  in  holiday 
attire,  surrounding  an  ecclesiastic  who  rode  pompously 
upon  a  fine  white  mule.  The  excitement  increased  to 
boiling  point  when  the  visitor  was  found  to  be  the  duke's 
chaplain  Herfast,  whom  we  have  already  introduced  to 
the  reader  as  holding  the  Bishopric  of  Elmham  in  1075^ 


LANFRANC.  129 

and  that  his  retinue  was  composed  of  nobles  high  in 
favour  at  the  court ;  and  the  much-impressed  monks 
hastened  to  tell  their  prior  of  the  honour  shown  him. 
But  the  prior  was  giving  audience  to  a  beggar,  and 
made  the  duke's  emissaries  wait  till  his  conference  was 
leisurely  concluded.  He  understood  perfectly  well  that 
William  wished  to  bribe  him,  by  this  display  of  favour, 
into  giving  his  assent  to  the  wedding,  and  he  had  a  mind 
to  assert  his  independence. 

Herfast  was  as  ignorant  as  he  was  pompous,  and  the 
accomplished  prior  took  every  opportunity  of  exposing 
his  guest's  ignorance,  even  placing  in  his  hands  an 
abcdarium,  or  spelling-book,  to  the  great  amusement  of 
the  spectators  and  the  huge  wrath  of  Herfast,  who  rode 
back  to  his  royal  master  with  a  fine  tale  of  the  insolence 
of  the  Lombard  upstart. 

William  was  so  incensed,  that  he  fell  into  a  paroxysm 
of  rage,  ordered  Lanfranc  out  of  the  country,  and  sent  a 
band  of  soldiers  to  burn  one  of  the  granges  of  the 
monastery  to  the  ground,  as  a  practical  witness  to  his 
anger  at  the  way  in  which  his  courtiers  had  been 
treated. 

Imagine  the  consternation  amongst  the  monks  of  Bee. 
Lanfranc,  however,  was  equal  to  the  occasion.  William 
had  ordered  him  to  quit  the  country.  But  the  brethren 
of  Bee  were  poor,  and  there  were  no  parliamcntar)- 
trains  in  those  dark  ages  to  carr)-  passengers  from  one 
end  of  a  country  to  the  other  for  a  penny  a  mile.  They 
must  travel  in  the  saddle  or  on  foot.  Churchmen,  for 
the  most  part,  patronised  mules  of  considerable  size  and 


130  LAN  FRANC. 

high  breeding,  and  journeyed  in  no  small  state.  But  the 
only  animal  the  stables  of  Bee  could  boast  was  a  sorry 
steed,  angular  of  joint  and  far  from  sound.  None  the 
less  the  prior  mounted  it,  and  set  off  for  Rouen,  where 
he  had  been  bidden  to  appear  before  the  duke  ere  he 
quitted  the  country. 

William  came  forth  to  meet  the  haughty  churchman, 
who  had  dared  to  thwart  and  condemn  him,  and  to 
make  fun  of  his  chaplain,  accompanied  by  a  gallant 
train  of  knights  and  squires.  He  expected  to  meet  a 
cavalcade  almost  as  numerous  and  magnificent  as  his 
own. 

His  face  was  dark  with  anger,  and  he  wrapped  himself 
in  thoughtful  taciturnity,  meditating  a  rebuke  befitting 
the  insolence  with  which  his  condescension  and  favour 
had  been  met. 

He  grew  impatient  when  along  the  straight  level  road 
nothing  could  be  seen  but  a  single  horseman  on  a  lame 
jade,  whose  nose  almost  touched  the  ground  at  every 
step,  and  whose  pace  was  easily  kept  up  with  by  a 
follower  on  foot. 

As  this  sorry  trio  approached,  however,  he  saw  that 
the  men  were  habited  as  monks,  and  Herfast,  who  rode 
beside  his  royal  master  on  his  sleek  white  mule,  flushed 
deeply  red. 

"Tis  Lanfranc  himself!'  he  exclaimed. 

*  What  new  mummery  is  this  ?  '  demanded  William, 
his  keen  eyes  straying  over  the  comical  figure  of  the 
prior  and  his  wretched  mount,  and  a  smile  gleaming  over 
his  stern  face,  brief  but  irrepressible,  for  William  was  a 


LANFRANC.  131 

lover  of  horseflesh,  and  spared  no  pains  or  expense  in 
the  importation  of  fine  horses  from  Spain  for  his  own 
use.  The  creature  he  bestrode  was  a  splendid  animal, 
and  the  strongest  of  contrasts  to  the  prior's  pitiful  nag. 

Slight  as  the  smile  was,  and  hastily  repressed, 
Lanfranc  saw  it,  and  took  instant  advantage. 

'  By  your  commands,' said  the  audacious  prior  airily, 
'  I  am  leaving  your  dominions,  but  it  is  only  at  a  foot's 
pace  that  I  can  proceed  on  such  a  wretched  beast  as 
this  ;  give  me  a  better  horse,  and  I  shall  be  better  able 
to  obey  your  commands.' 

William  had  a  keen  sense  of  humour,  and  perhaps  felt 
that  the  clever  Lombard  would  be  a  formidable  foe. 

He  laughed  a  royal  laugh  of  magnificent  amusement. 
'Who  ever  heard  before,'  he  asked,  'of  an  offender 
venturing  to  ask  a  donation  from  the  vcr}-  judge  he  has 
offended  ? ' 

Herfast  grew  redder  than  ever  with  chagrin  and 
mortification,  for  he  saw  very  plainly  that  the  subtle 
prior  had  mollified  the  duke  by  his  intrepid  joke.  And 
so  it  was,  and  from  this  strange  meeting  resulted  no  less 
a  matter  than  the  establishment  of  a  fricndshi[)  which 
lasted  till  William's  death. 

Not  long  afterwards,  Lanfranc  went  to  Rome  to  plead 
with  the  Pope,  and  urge  him  to  give  his  sanction  to  that 
marriage  which  the  prior  had  hitherto  opposed  so 
bitterly.  And  this  he  did  without  inconsistency,  for  his 
opposition  had  been  based  upon  William's  defiance  of 
the  Holy  See ;  when,  therefore,  he  persuaded  the 
haughty  duke  to  humble  himself,  and  plead  meekly  for 


T32  LANFRANC. 

a  dispensation,  with  promises  that  he  and  his  bride 
would  bind  themselves  to  many  duties  in  return,  amongst 
others,  to  endow  each  an  abbey  and  two  hospitals, 
the  seeming  submission  of  Lanfranc  was  really  a 
triumph. 

After  a  while,  though  much  against  his  will,  Lanfranc 
was  induced  to  leave  Normandy,  and  assume  the  onerous 
post  of  Primate  of  William's  newly-conquered  kingdom 
of  England.  He  even  appealed  to  Pope  Alexander  II. 
to  extricate  him  from  the  difficulties  of  such  high  office, 
and  to  permit  him  to  return  to  the  monastic  life,  which 
above  all  things  delighted  him.  But  the  Pope  refused 
to  interfere,  and  Lanfranc  accepted  the  inevitable, 
and  set  to  work  with  courageous  zeal  to  make  the  best 
of  his  manifold  duties.  And  he  acquitted  himself  like 
a  brave  and  good  man,  steering  a  wise  course  amongst 
the  jealous  Normans  a.nd  aggrieved  Saxons,  selecting 
virtuous  men  to  fill  the  posts  which  became  vacant  ; 
and  though,  no  doubt,  partaking  the  prejudices  of  the 
conquerors,  yet  securing  good  men  amongst  the  Saxon 
clergy  as  friends.  The  Church  of  England  owes  much 
to  him,  for  he  was  distinctly  an  imperialist,  and  stoutly 
resisted  papal  aggression,  laying  the  seeds  of  that 
nationality  which  has  saved  us  from  so  many  evils. 

It  may  be  imagined  that  the  simple-minded  and 
gentle  Waltheof,  much  more  adept  at  wielding  a  seax 
than  at  chopping  logic,  and  who  was  as  wax  in  the  hands 
of  his  clever  wife,  was  as  water  under  the  treatment  of 
this  subtle  Lombard,  who  could  mould  to  his  wishes 
even  the  self-willed  and  astute  William, 


LANFRANC.  133 

The  archbishop  received  the  Earl  of  Northumberland 
with  much  pomp  and  circumstance,  giving  him  the 
ceremonious  honour  due  to  his  high  rank  and  his  position 
as  husband  of  the  king's  niece,  so  that  Waltheof  had  to 
beg  for  a  private  interview. 

This  being  granted,  the  unhappy  hero  knew  not  how 
to  begin  his  forced  confession,  and  the  keen  black  eyes 
with  which  Lanfranc  searched  his  face  did  not  lessen 
his  confusion. 

But  the  archbishop  had  no  intent  to  deal  harshly 
with  his  illustrious  penitent. 

His  features  softened  with  a  winning  smile.  'What 
hast  thou  to  say  to  me,  my  son?'  he  asked  in  a  gentle 
voice.  '  Why  hesitate  ?  Dost  thou  not  know  mc  for  a 
true  friend  ? ' 

'  Alas,  father !  I  have  a  sad  talc  of  sin  and  weakness 
to  reveal  to  thine  ears,'  said  the  son  of  Siward  at  length. 
*  But  I  [)ray  thee  advise  me.  I  have  taken  an  oath,  and 
since  then,  heated  with  wine,  and  somewhat  overawed 
by  numbers,  I  have  taken  a  second  contrary  thereto. 
By  which  am  I  bound  ?  Am  I  forsworn  in  that,  notwith- 
standing this  second  oath,  I  sent  the  messenger  to  thee, 
who,  if  nought  mischanced,  reached  Canterbury  some 
four  days  agone  ?  ' 

'Thou  hast  sinned,  my  son,  answered  the  archbishop 
gravely  ;  '  but  not  so  heavily  but  that,  after  due  penance, 
the  offence  may  be  pardoned.  An  unwilling  oath,  taken 
under  the  compulsion  of  an  excited  crowd,  can  scarce 
bind  as  that  which  was  the  fruit  of  calm  reflection  and 
sober  judgment.      Rather  must  it  be  accounted  evil  in 


134  LAN  FRANC. 

thee,  that  thou  didst  consort  with  a  man  who  was 
anathema  of  the  Holy  Church.'  His  mobile  face  grew 
stern,  but  it  was  a  sternness  not  unmixed  with  sorrow. 

'  Nay,'  answered  Waltheof  eagerly,  '  I  knew  not  of 
that  till  the  banquet  was  well-nigh  ended,  when  it  was 
impossible  to  turn  back.' 

He  was  relieved  at  the  tone  of  the  archbishop,  yet 
could  not  keep  reflecting  bitterly  in  his  heart,  that  this 
light  treatment  of  a  forced  oath  when  taken  by  the  son 
of  Siward  against  William,  was  very  different  to  the 
view  taken  of  that  made  by  the  son  of  Godwin  for 
William.  Harold  had  been  branded  a  perjurer  for 
abjuring  a  forced  oath. 

'  Nevertheless,'  said  the  archbishop,  not  yet  relaxing 
his  face,  'thou  hadst  knowledge  that  the  men  whose 
bread  v\as  broken  for  thee  were  acting  in  direct  opposi- 
tion to  the  mandate  of  thy  king-lord  and  kinsman,  whose 
clemency  had  pardoned  thy  former  misdeeds  against 
him,  whose  hand  had  been  reached  to  thee  in  fellowship, 
and  whose  niece  had  been  given  to  thee  to  be  bone  of 
thy  bone,  flesh  of  thy  flesh.' 

'  In  good  sooth,  father,'  replied  Waltheof  reluctantly, 
and  with  the  air  of  a  schoolboy  repeating  a  lesson  by 
rote,  '  I  thought  mine  uncle  and  king-lord  was  play- 
ing a  somewhat  tyrannical  part  in  dividing  two  true 
lovers.  I  see  now  that  he  had  reasons  which  I  little 
suspected.' 

This  defence  had  been  suggested  by  Judith. 

Lanfranc's  fine  sensitive  face  grew  sad.  Speaking  in 
a  low,  sorrowful  voice,  as  though  the  subject  caused  him 


LANFRANC.  13S 

inexpressible  pain,  he  said,  '  My  son,  it  was  not  for  light 
or  frivolous  reasons  that  William  our  king-lord  interfered 
to  thwart  the  wishes  of  his  earls.  Nor  was  it  without 
cause,  or,  in  truth,  without  grievous  necessity,  that  I 
declared  the  anathema  of  the  Holy  Church  against  the 
son  of  the  man  who  did  more  than  any  other  to  crown 
our  Norman  duke  an  English  king.  Had  it  been  but  a 
question  of  a  marriage,'  the  archbishop  continued  in  the 
same  strain,  but  in  a  still  softer  tone,  and  rather  as  if 
speaking  to  himself  than  to  the  earl,  '  God  forbid  that 
I  should  have  parted  whom  He  had  elected  in  His  all- 
seeing  wisdom  to  unite!'  He  sighed  deeply,  for  in  his 
youth  he  had  been  the  husband  of  a  much-loved  wife, 
whose  death  had  taken  all  flavour  from  earthly  joy  for 
him,  and  had  been  the  cause  of  his  precipitate  retreat 
from  a  position  of  wealth  and  fame,  to  seek  consolation 
in  the  cloister.  '  I  have  loved  Roger  Mtzosbern  as  a 
son  :  I  have  striven  with  him  in  affection  !  But,  alas  ! 
in  vain.  One  folly  was  added  to  another,  until  at  last 
foolishness  swelled  into  crime.  lie  denied  justice  to 
the  injured.  He  invaded  the  property  of  his  king-lord, 
and  of  his  peers  ;  and  now  he  has  crowned  all  by  this 
attempted  treason,  brought  to  the  light  at  the  unholy 
banquet  at  which  thou  wert  thyself  tempted  to  evil, 
Waltheof !  Ah  !  I  have  wept  tears  of  blood  over  this 
lost  sheep.  Would  that  my  efforts  had  recalled  him  to 
the  fold  !     JUit  the  time  is  past.' 

He  stretched  out  his  thin,  transparent  hands  before 
him,  his  dark  eyes  fi.xed  upon  space,  as  if  contemplating 
a  vision  of  the  bloodshed  to  come. 


136  LANFRANC. 

He  was  silent,  and  Waltheof,  being  a  man  of  few 
words,  was  silent  also. 

Suddenly  the  Lombard  turned  his  gleaming  eyes  upon 
the  Northumbrian  earl.  Waltheof  started,  for  in  his 
heart  was  no  repentance  for  having  attended  the  banquet, 
nor  for  any  of  his  treasonable  designs,  but  only  a  fierce 
wrath  against  the  Norman  wife  who  had  defeated  his 
plans,  and  brought  him  more  tightly  under  the  yoke  he 
hated,  and  it  seemed  to  him  as  if  those  dark  eyes  could 
read  his  most  secret  thoughts.  He  shifted  his  huge  frame 
uneasily,  so  that  the  bracelets  which  ringed  his  tattooed 
arms  almost  to  the  elbow,  clanged  together,  and  his 
large  fingers  sought  the  jewelled  haft  of  the  hunting- 
knife  which  hung  at  his  baldric,  not  threateningly,  but 
from  habit. 

Yet  if  his  thoughts  were  read,  they  were  ignored. 

'  But  thou  at  least  art  here  I '  Lanfranc  exclaimed, 
his  mobile  features  lighted  b)'  a  brilliant  smile.  '  Thy 
better  angel  has  prevailed,  and,  by  the  mercy  of  Our 
Lady,  has  brought  thee  back  to  the  fold  at  the  eleventh 
hour.' 

Waltheof  looked  relieved,  and  he  lifted  his  head  and 
tossed  back  the  yellow  mane  which  had  fallen  over  his 
face. 

'  I  pray  thee,  father,'  he  said  earnestly,  encouraged  by 
the  Primate's  smile  ;  '  stand  by  me  in  my  trouble,  and 
plead  my  cause  with  William  of  Normandy.  TJioii  hast 
the  power  to  influence  him.  Advise  me  how  I  may  best 
act  to  win  his  pardon  for  my  transgression  ;  how  best 
assure  him  of  the  sincerity  of  my  return  to  allegiance.' 


Walthfiof  s  Ilumiliation. 


LANFRANC.  i37 

'  I  will  stand  by  thee,  my  son,'  replied  the  archbishop, 
clasping  Waltheof's  great  hand  in  his  slender  fingers. 
And  he  fulfilled  his  promise  with  unswerving  fidelity, 
even  to  the  last,  when  the  unfortunate  son  of  Siward 
lay  doomed  to  death  in  prison ;  nor,  if  Lanfranc  could 
have  prevented  it,  would  William  have  consummated 
that  greatest  blot  upon  his  reign,  the  execution  of  the 
Northumbrian  carl.  'Thou  art  impulsive,  my  son,  and 
simple-minded,  and  therefore  easily  snared.  But  I 
believe  not  that  thy  heart  is  evil,  or  that  thou  wouldst  be 
other  than  a  pious  son  of  our  Holy  Mother  Church.' 

'  No,  indeed  ! '  said  Waltheof,  much  affected  by  the 
appeal,  which  roused  all  the  natural  piety  and  humility 
of  his  nature.  He  crossed  himself  with  much  fervour. 
'Tell  me  what  to  do,  father.  Whatever  thou  wilt 
command  I  will  perform.' 

'  My  son,  I  would  bid  tlicc  cross  the  sea  to  Normandy 
and  seek  William  in  person,  confessing  all  frankly,  and 
throwing  thyself  on  his  mercy.  Nor  would  it  be 
detrimental  to  thy  suit  if  thy  hands  bore  somewhat  of 
the  produce  of  the  lands  and  honours  he  has  bestowed 
upon  thee  with  so  lavish  a  generosity.' 

Waltheof  shuddered.  It  was  no  pleasant  prospect  to 
the  powerful  earl,  whose  head  had  of  late  been  so  filled 
with  schemes  of  ambition,  thus  to  humble  himself  a 
second  time  to  the  conqueror  of  his  people. 

But  Waltheof's  courage  was  more  of  the  physical  order 
than  the  moral.  He  was,  besides,  of  gentle  disposition, 
and  sincerely  desired  to  avert  bloodshed,  and  he  thought 
that  his   defection  from   the  ranks  of  the  conspirators 


138  LANFRANC. 

would   prevent   any  attempt   to    meet  William    in    the 
field. 

Therefore  he  bowed  his  head.  '  Thine  advice  is  meet, 
father,'  he  said  ;  '  I  will  cross  the  seas  and  seek  William, 
bearing  rich  presents  to  testify  my  regret  for  the  past, 
and  present  goodwill.' 


CHAPTER  XL 

THE   CASTELLAN   OF   BLAUNCIIEFLOUK. 

Ralph  DE  Guauer  had  said  little  to  his  bride  of 
the  proceedings  at  the  marriage  festivities,  but  a  time 
came  when  it  was  necessary  for  him  to  break  in  upon 
their  brief  honeymoon  with  rumours  of  war,  for  it  was 
not  possible  to  hide  the  fact  that  he  must  take  the 
field  in  defence  of  life  and  liberty. 

The  defection  of  Walthcof  had  been  a  great  blow  to 
the  conspirators  ;  his  untimely  betrayal  of  their  plans 
was  more  serious  still,  as  their  chance  of  success  la)' 
chiefly  in  the  hope  of  taking  the  king's  forces  by 
surprise. 

Waltheof  himself  had  supposed  that  his  course  would 
altogether  put  a  stop  to  the  undertaking,  seeing  that 
his  two  brother  earls  had  represented  that  to  place  him 
on  the  throne  was  its  chief  object. 

But  Dc  Guader  and  Fitzosbern  were  too  proud  to 
give  up  their  hopes  of  aggrandisement  so  easily,  and, 
moreover,  their  case  was  desperate.  If  they  submitted 
at  once  and  unconditionally,  they  could  only  look  for- 
ward to  disgrace  and  imprisonment,  whereas  the  chances 
of  battle   might   still    be   in   their   favour.      It  was   not 

13!) 


I40        THE  CASTELLAN  OF  DLAUNCHEFLOUR. 

wonderful,  therefore,  that  they  elected   to  fight  it  out, 
notwithstanding  the  odds  against  them. 

The  Earl  of  Norfolk  and  Suffolk  had  assembled  his 
forces,  and  held  all  in  readiness  for  departure  on  the 
morrow.  The  dreaded  moment  had  come,  and  he 
sought  his  wife's  bower,  feeling  that  he  would  much 
liefer  meet  William's  men-at-arms. 

It  was  a  sunny  little  room  on  the  east  side  of  the 
palace,  looking  over  the  marshes  of  the  low  holme  which 
then  bordered  the  Wensum  with  a  wilderness  of  sedges 
and  white  water-lilies,  and  upon  which,  some  eleven 
years  later,  Herbert  de  Losinga  erected  the  cathedral 
which  is  our  present  pride  and  joy. 

Emma  loved  to  watch  the  high-prowed  galleys  pa.ss- 
ing  to  and  fro  upon  the  river,  with  sails  spread,  and 
oars  flashing,  and  stout  rowers  bending  to  their  work ; 
and  to  see  them  lading  and  unlading  at  Lovelly's  Staithe, 
a  wharf  situated  about  a  third  of  the  distance  between 
the  present  ferry  and  Foundry  Bridge. 

Here  Eadgyth  would  entertain  her  with  stories  of  her 
girlhood,  and  tell  how  she  had  seen  her  cousin,  Harold 
Godwinsson,  land  at  that  wharf,  when  he  came  to 
Norwich  after  his  imprisonment  in  Normandy ;  and 
how  Leofric,  Earl  of  Mercia,  to  whom  the  sainted  King 
Eadward  had  given  the  East  Anglian  earldom  in  Harold's 
absence,  met  him  with  all  honour  ;  and  of  the  magnani- 
mous strife  between  the  two,  when  Leofric  would  give 
back  the  earldom,  and  Harold  would  fain  have  had  him 
keep  it ;  and  how  Harold  took  it  for  a  time,  but  returned 
it  on  ascending  the  throne. 


THE  CASTELLAN  OF  BLA  UNCHEFLOUR.        141 

And  when  the  white  swans  came  saihng  amongst  the 
reeds,  bending  their  long  necks  from  side  to  side,  the 
Saxon  maiden  would  tell  her  friend  of  Harold's  beloved, 
her  namesake  Eadgyth  Swannchals,  the  most  beautiful 
woman  in  Norfolk,  or,  for  the  matter  of  that,  in  all 
England,  and  would  burst  into  tears  when  she  thought 
of  the  sad  ending  of  that  fair  romance. 

And  Emma  would  smile  at  her  enthusiasm,  but  yet 
grew  in  sympathy  with  this  English  people,  the  smoke 
of  whose  dwellings  was  rising  around  her,  and  alijiost 
found  it  in  her  heart  to  wish  that  her  hero  William  had 
been  a  little  less  successful,  and  to  question  whether  it 
had  not  been  more  virtuous  of  him  to  stay  at  home  in 
his  native  Normandy.  Somehow  she  had  never  ad- 
mired him  so  freely  since  he  had  endeavoured  to  part 
her  from  her  betrothed. 

In  such  a  mood  as  this  was  Emma  when  her  husband 
sought  her,  with  the  intention  of  telling  her  the  secret 
of  his  bold  enterprise,  but  he  little  guessed  how  much 
her  sympathies  had  turned  against  William,  for,  as  is 
often  the  case  when  convictions  are  changing,  she  had 
made  up  for  her  coldness  of  feeling  by  warmth  of  speech, 
and  had  souc^ht  so  to  atone  for  her  act  of  rebellion  in 
marrying  Ralph  against  the  king's  mandate. 

Therefore  the  earl  knew  not  how  to  begin  his  explana- 
tion, and  sat  before  her  embroidery  frame  almost  as 
deeply  embarrassed  as  Waltheof  had  been  before  the 
archbishop.  'Tis  true  he  had  told  her  ere  their  wedding 
that  the  quarrel  must  needs  be  fought  out,  yet  it  .seemed 
not  the  easier  to  say,  '  My  standard  is  lifted.' 


142        THE  CASTELLAN  OF  BL^AUNCHEFLOUR. 

His  face  was  ashy  pale,  for  it  was  to  him  cruel  as 
death  to  leave  his  young  bride  before  a  month  had 
passed,  although  he  had  known  that  the  parting  must 
come. 

Emma,  looking  at  him,  dropped  her  silks  in  horror, 
and,  throwing  her  arms  round  his  neck,  asked  coaxingly 
what  ailed  him. 

And  Ralph  turned  his  head  away  without  speaking. 

'Can  it  be  that  I  have  offended  thee  in  aught?'  asked 
the  young  countess  anxiously. 

'  Nay,  Emma,  I  am  the  offender,  if  offender  there  be. 
Methinks  the  worst  of  all  ailments  is  mine,  for  I  must 
leave  thee,  and  perchance  anger  thee  also.' 

'  Leave  me  ? '     Her  breath  caught  in  a  sob  of  terror. 

Ralph  faced  her  desperately.  '  My  love,  thou  knowest 
our  wedding  was  against  the  express  mandate  of  the 
king.  Lanfranc,  the  king's  man,  whom  he  made 
Primate  of  all  England, — in  place  of  the  holy  Stigand, 
whom  he  unjustly  deprived,  and  who  yet  languishes 
in  prison,  —  hath  turned  bitterly  against  thy  brother 
of  Hereford,  whom  whilom  he  was  wont  to  treat  as 
a  son,  and  has  set  a  ban  of  excommunication  upon 
him.' 

A  low  cry  of  horror  escaped  from  Emma. 

Ralph's  eyes  flashed  fire.  He  caught  his  wife's  white 
hands  as  they  were  sliding  dov.m  from  his  neck,  half 
withdrawn  at  the  fear  that  her  love  had  led  her  into 
deadly  sin,  since  the  brother  who  had  countenanced  her 
marriage,  and  urged  her  to  its  fulfilment,  was  cast  out 
by  the  Church, 


THE  CASTELLAN  OF  BLAUNCHEFLOUR.        143 

He  understood  the  loosening  of  her  clasp,  and  caught 
her  hands  as  a  protest. 

*  Emma,'  he  cried,  '  thou  hast  taken  me  for  better  or 
worse.  I  hoped  to  have  made  thee  the  second  lady  in 
the  land.  But  alas !  I  must  fight  to  hold  mine  own, 
nay,  for  dear  life, — life  which  is  precious  for  thy 
sake.' 

'  I  do  not  regret  my  choice,'  said  Emma,  meeting  his 
gaze  with  her  frank  eyes,  her  proud  Fitzosbern  spirit 
rising  to  the  test.  '  Only  I  fear  lest  I  have  sinned  in 
taking  thee  against  the  will  of  my  king-lord  and  the 
voice  of  the  Holy  Church.' 

'  Say  rather  the  voice  of  William's  creature,  —  a 
Lombard  upstart,  without  a  drop  of  noble  blood  in  his 
veins.  Dost  thou  forget  the  holy  men  who  blessed  our 
union  and  gave  it  the  sanction  of  the  Church  ?  They 
blessed  thy  brother  for  taking  up  the  cause  of  an 
oppressed  people.  Shall  the  curses  of  the  wily  Italian 
have  more  weight  than  their  benedictions?  Dost  thou 
throw  over  thy  brother  so  easily  to  his  untender 
mercies  ? ' 

'Alas!  I  am  bewildered  amid  so  many  conflicting 
counsels,'  Emma  sighed. 

'  This  poor  land  and  all  who  are  in  it  are  so  bewildered, 
my  sweet  lady,'  Ralph  answered,  kissing  the  hands  he 
still  held.  '  None  can  seethe  right  clear!}'.  William — 
the  Conqueror,  as  he  proudly  styles  himself — liath  gone 
mad  with  his  success,  and  the  luckless  people  groan 
under  his  tyrann}'.  Would  I  had  never  helped  him  to 
leave  his  duchy  of  Normandy!     But  it    is  useless  to 


1 44        THE  CA  S  TELL  A  N  OF  BLA  UNCHEFL  0  UR. 

groan  over  the  past,  nor  can  I  stop  to  chop  logic  over 
the  present.  The  point  is  this  :  The  king's  men  are 
marching  to  attack  me.  My  only  course  is  to  fight  for 
it,  and,  if  possible,  make  a  junction  with  thy  brother 
Roger,  when  it  may  be  that  the  oppressed  Saxons  will 
strike  a  blow  to  regain  their  freedom,  and,  with  my 
trusty  Bretons,  I  may  still  gain  the  day.' 

Emma  clasped  her  hands  in  sore  distress, 

'  Is  it  in  good  sooth  come  to  this,  that  thou  must  go 
forth  against  the  king?  Alas  !  my  foolish  face  tempted 
thee  to  wrong.     'Tis  I  that  am  to  blame.' 

Ralph  caught  her  to  him  and  kissed  her.  '  Nay,  by 
the  heart  of  Our  Lady.  'Tis  William's  mad  pride  that 
is  to  blame,  and  that  alone.  Speak  no  slander  against 
my  wife,  or  it  will  go  ill  with  thee,  for  I  will  not  brook 
to  hear  it.' 

Emma  drooped  her  head  against  his  shoulder,  smiling 
through  her  tears.  '  Oh,  Ralph,'  she  said,  '  if  thou  wert 
but  going  in  a  good  cause,  the  parting  would  not  be  so 
bitter.' 

Ralph,  having  no  good  argument  to  proffer  in  reply, 
lost  his  temper.  He  sprang  up  and  paced  the  room, 
making  his  golden  spurs  jingle  at  each  impatient 
stride. 

'  I  thought  when  I  wedded  a  Fitzosbern  I  should 
escape  the  lot  of  most  men,  to  be  wept  and  wailed 
over  at  every  crinkle  in  the  rose-leaves  of  fate.  But 
it  seems  thou  art  but  of  the  same  stuff  as  other  women, 
after  all.' 

Emma  flushed  over  neck  and  brow.     She  drew  herself 


THE  CASTELLAN  OF  BLAUNCHEFLOUR.        145 

proudly  erect,  and  hastily  wiped  away  the  tears  that 
were  rolling  down  her  cheeks. 

'  Naught  but  dread  of  guilt  and  a  too  fond  love 
could  have  drawn  tears  from  a  P'itzosbern,'  she  answered 
haughtily.  '  Thou  shalt  not  need  to  complain  again, 
my  lord.' 

'  Nay,  my  sweet  lady,  pardon  me,'  pleaded  the  earl, 
turning  to  her  with  entreating  eyes.  '  In  good  sooth,  I 
am  well-nigh  distracted,  and  the  sight  of  thy  tears 
makes  me  too  bitterly  conscious  of  my  own  lack  of 
worth.  But  what  wouldst  thou  have  me  do?  If  it  were 
but  a  question  of  my  own  poor  life,  I  would  submit,  and 
let  William  do  his  worst,  if  such  a  course  would  pleasure 
thee ;  but  I  cannot  desert  thy  brother,  nor  my  own  poor 
Bretons,  and  the  Saxons  who  have  thrown  in  their  lot 
with  mine.  Thou  knowest  William  is  not  gentle  with 
such  as  cross  his  will.  It  would  mean  loss  of  lands  and 
lifelong  imprisonment  to  thy  brother  and  myself,  and 
the  lopping  off  a  hand  and  a  foot  for  each  of  my  l^retons, 
at  the  least,  while  hanging  would  be  too  mild  a  measure 
in  his  eyes  for  the  Saxons.' 

Emma's  hands  were  tightly  clenched  together.  The 
momentary  flush  had  faded  from  her  face,  and  it  was 
pale  as  death,  but  she  neither  sobbed  nor  flinched. 

'  I  have  made  my  choice,  and  I  will  abide  by  it,'  she 
said  in  a  low,  firm  voice.  'Nor  will  I  quail  before  the 
consequences  of  our  deed.  We  have  chosen  each  other 
against  the  whole  world.  Perhaps  if  thou  hadst  trusted 
me  more  fully,  thou  hadst  not  been  vexed  with  tears. 
Thy  announcenicnt  was  somewliat  sudden.' 


146        THE  CASTELLAN  OF  BLAUNCHEFLOUR. 

*  Let  that  ill-grained  speech  rest  in  its  grave,  dear 
love.  Thou  hast  spoken  like  a  Fitzosbern  now,'  said 
the  earl,  taking  her  hands  again  in  his  and  drawing 
her  back  to  his  shoulder.  '  I  want  thee  to  be  of  good 
courage,  for  I  have  treated  thee  as  a  hero's  daughter, 
and  appointed  thee  Castellan  of  Blauncheflour  in  my 
absence.  I  have  vested  in  thee  the  supreme  and  sole 
command.  Thine  it  shall  be,  in  case  of  siege  while  I 
am  away, — which  God  forfend, — to  surrender  or  defend 
the  castle  on  whatsoever  terms  may  seem  good  to  thee. 
Sir  Alain  de  Gourin  and  Sir  Hoel  de  St.  Brice  will  act 
under  thine  orders  and  be  thine  advisers.  Wilt  thou 
take  the  office  ? ' 

'Yes,  I  will  take  it,'  answered  Emma,  without  a 
moment's  hesitation,  although  her  whole  soul  trembled 
within  her  at  the  prospect  of  being  left  in  her  young 
feebleness  to  command  the  turbulent  De  Gourin,  for 
whom  she  had  a  strong  aversion,  and  the  veteran  Sir 
Hoel,  who  was  a  total  stranger  to  her,  albeit  he  had 
been  so  long  in  her  husband's  train. 

'Thou  art  indeed  a  fit  bride  for  a  warrior,'  cried 
Ralph,  gazing  with  admiration  at  her  determined 
face. 

Emma  longed  to  throw  her  arms  around  his  neck  and 
sob,  but  conquered  the  impulse,  answering  only  with  a 
smile. 

'  Thou  saidest  I  was  sudden,  sweet,'  resumed  Ralph. 
'  Methinks  an  agony  that  must  be  sharp  had  best  be 
short.  To  that  end  I  would  not  poison  for  thee  the 
brief  time  we  had  together  with  the  shadow  of  parting. 


THE  CA  S  TELL  A  N  OF  BLA  UNCHEFL  OUR.        147 

That  is  why  I  told  thee  naught  till  now,  upon  the  eve 
of  my  going  forth.' 

Emma  could  not  repress  a  slight  start. 

*  Dost  go  so  soon  ?     To-morrow  ? '  she  said. 

'To-morrow  thou  wilt  enter  on  thy  new  office,'  an- 
swered the  earl  gaily,  kissing  her  forehead.  And  then 
he  slipped  from  the  apartment,  congratulating  himself 
that  the  mischief  was  out,  and  full  of  admiration  for  his 
bride,  in  that  she  had  borne  the  tidings  so  bravely. 

Emma  listened  to  his  footfall  as  he  strode  down  the 
long  corridor  till  its  echo  was  lost  in  the  distance. 
Then  the  emotion  she  had  violently  repressed  had  its 
way. 

She  stretched  out  her  arms  after  him  as  if  to  call  him 
back,  and  threw  herself  on  her  knees  near  the  door. 

'  Oh,  Ralph  ! '  she  sobbed, — '  oh,  Ralph,  my  husband  ! 
Saints  and  angels  protect  thee !  Guard  him,  St. 
Nicholas,  thou  under  whose  patronage  he  has  placed 
himself  I  vow  seven  candlesticks  of  pure  gold  to  thine 
altar  in  Blauncheflour.' 

Her  voice  died  away,  a  strange  sensation  of  numb 
oppression  succeeded  her  violent  anguish,  and  she  sank 
in  a  dead  faint  by  the  door  her  husband  had  just  passed 
through. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

THE   STANDARD   OF   REVOLT. 

The  day  which  was  to  part  Emma  de  Guader  from 
her  bridegroom  dawned  clear  and  bright,  and  the  summer 
sunshine  sparkled  upon  the  broad  reaches  of  the  Yare, 
and  gleamed  amidst  the  pale  green  rushes  and  brown 
osier  beds  of  the  Cowholme,  shining  with  impartial 
equality,  not  only  upon  the  just  and  the  unjust,  but  upon 
the  joyous  and  the  sad. 

In  nooks  and  corners  amongst  the  reeds  and  water 
weeds,  the  coots  and  water-hens  were  tending  their 
nestlings. 

On  the  site  of  the  busy  railway  station,  the  tall 
heron  poised  gracefully  on  one  leg,  as  his  descendants 
do  to  this  day,  some  ten  or  fifteen  miles  nearer  the 
sea. 

The  yellow  water-lilies  were  pushing  their  golden 
buds  to  the  surface,  and  the  reeds  were  growing  dusky 
at  the  top,  while  the  hot  sunshine  brought  out  the 
fragrance  of  the  sweet-gale,  or  bog-myrtle,  which  covered 
many  an  acre,  now  built  over,  with  its  dark  green 
bushes. 

Westward  the   broad   woodlands  were  in  the   young 

148 


THE  STANDARD  OF  REVOLT.  149 

beauty  of  their  .summer  dress,  wearing  still  somewhat  of 
the  rich  variety  of  spring.  Mountainous  white  clouds 
cast  purple  shadows  over  the  sea  of  their  close-packed 
crowns,  in  the  shelter  of  which  sang  merles  and  mavises, 
and  the  fitful  nightingale ;  while  above  marsh  and 
woodland  many  a  hawk  and  bustard  hung  poised  on 
motionless  wings,  for  in  those  days  the  gamekeepers 
had  no  quarrel  with  them. 

The  sentinels  on  the  keep  of  Blauncheflour  had  a  fair 
panorama  to  look  upon  as  they  marched  to  and  fro  upon 
the  walls  ;  but  they  did  not  pay  much  heed  to  the 
beauties  of  nature,  they  were  far  too  much  engrossed  in 
the  doings  in  the  courtyard  of  the  castle  below,  and 
their  eyes  only  left  the  knights  who  were  gathered  there, 
for  an  occasional  glance  at  the  armed  host  assembled 
within  the  circle  of  the  barbican. 

Truly  the  cluster  of  gallant  warriors  before  the  grand 
portal  of  the  castle,  glittering  from  head  to  foot  with 
shining  steel,  lavishly  ornamented  with  gold  and  silver, 
were  a  goodly  sight  to  sec ;  though  perhaps  Roger 
Bigod  may  have  gathered  a  still  gayer  company  round 
him  a  century  later,  when  gaudy  plumes  and  surcoats 
embroidered  with  the  coats  of  arms  of  the  wearers  were 
the  fashion  of  the  day.  In  William  the  Conqueror's 
time,  military  finery  had  trenched  little  on  the  strictly 
useful,  and  the  richness  of  these  cavaliers  consisted  more 
in  fine  inlay  of  precious  metals  than  in  feathers  and 
embroidery,  or  fantastic  helms  or  armour.  Their  heads 
were  covered  with  small  conical  steel -caps,  having  a 
nasal  to  protect  them  from  a  transverse  cut  across  the 


ISO  THE  STANDARD  OF  REVOLT. 

face,  or  were  encased  in  huge  cylinders  of  steel,  having 
narrow  apertures  for  the  necessities  of  sight  and  breath- 
ing ;  their  long  hauberks  were  of  linked  mail,  or  leather 
sewn  all  over  with  little  rings  of  steel ;  their  straight 
cross-hilted  swords  measured  three  and  a  half  to  four 
feet  in  length,  and  were  encased  in  richly-chased  and 
jewelled  scabbards,  and  suspended  from  baldrics  ablaze 
with  gold  and  gems.  Each  wore  in  his  belt  the 
miscricorde,  and  at  the  saddle-bows  of  some  hung  the 
battle-axe  or  mace.  Their  oval  or  heart-shaped  shields 
were  from  four  to  five  feet  long,  richly  embossed,  and 
often  bearing  a  raised  spike  in  the  centre.  Their  long 
lances  were  adorned  with  square  or  swallow  -  tailed 
pennons,  according  to  their  rank,  for,  when  a  knight 
obtained  the  rank  of  banneret,  or  leader  of  a  troop,  the 
points  were  shorn  off  his  pennon.  Their  saddles  and 
horse  furniture  were  studded  with  steel  bosses,  and  often 
the  reins  were  steel  chains  plentifully  enriched  with 
gold,  and  the  heavy  steeds  they  bestrode  had  need  of 
all  their  sturdy  strength  to  carry  their  burdens  of  man 
and  metal  at  a  gallop,  even  at  the  prompting  of  golden 
spurs. 

Before  the  portal  stood  De  Guader's  magnificent  barb 
Oliver,  champing  his  bit,  and  with  difficulty  restrained 
by  the  squire  who  held  his  bridle-rein,  the  white  foam 
flying  from  his  heavy  curb  upon  his  gilded  trappings, 
and  his  fox-coloured  mane  tossing  in  the  breeze. 

A  iQ.\N  words  of  the  great  portal  itself,  before  which 
this  brave  company  was  assembled.  The  vestibule  on 
the  eastern  side  of  the  keep,  now  known  as  Bigod's  Tower, 


THE  STANDARD  OF  REVOLT.  151 

was  not  built,  but  the  very  beautiful  early  Norman  arch- 
way was  certainly  a  part  of  the  original  structure,  and 
opened  upon  a  raised  platform  of  stone,  from  which 
sprang  a  drawbridge  connecting  it  with  a  flight  of 
twenty-eight  steps,  ended  by  a  gate  to  the  south. 

Beneath  this  drawbridge  was  the  sally-port,  a  narrow 
postern  strongly  fortified,  which  in  case  of  siege  could, 
by  raising  the  drawbridge  of  the  main  doorway,  be  made 
the  only  entrance  to  the  kcep.^ 

At  a  signal  from  a  sentinel  who  stood  upon  this  plat- 
form, the  trumpeters  executed  a  X\\ (Ay  fanfare  on  their 
instruments.  A  moment  later  the  portal  was  thrown 
open,  and  the  earl  came  forth,  clad  in  complete  armour, 
and  leading  the  young  countess,  who  was  very  gallant!}' 
apparelled  in  crimson  cloth,  broidered  over  with  jewels 
and  silver  ;  she  wore  a  small  gorget  of  blue  Milan  steel, 
and  had  on  her  head  a  little  cap  of  the  same,  damascened 
with  gold  ;  round  her  waist  a  jewelled  belt,  from  which 
were  suspended  a  little  viiscricorde  and  a  short  steel 
chain. 

Behind  the  earl  and  countess  followed  Sir  Hoel  de  St. 
Brice  and  Sir  Alain  de  Gourin,  both  in  full  harness, 
attended  by  several  squires  and  pages.  As  they  came 
upon  the  platform,  the  greater  part  of  the  garrison — all 
that  were  not  actually  on  duty  as  sentries,  warders,  and 
like  offices — ^filed  into  the  courtyard,  and  took  up  their 
places  behind  the  group  of  knights. 

^  Some  idea  of  tlic  arrangement  here  described  is  given  by  the  figure  of 
the  ruins  of  Iledingham  Castle  in  Slrntt  :  Manners  and  Customs  0/ llie 
English,  vol.  i.  plate  xxix. 


152  THE  STANDARD  OF  REVOLT. 

'  A  Guader  !  a  Guader  ! '  shouted  knights  and  soldiers. 
'  Long  live  the  earl  and  countess  ! ' 

The  noble  couple  bowed  courteously,  and  the  earl, 
who  held  in  his  hands  the  keys  of  the  castle,  turned  to 
his  consort,  and  then  cast  a  proud  glance  along  the 
ranks  of  his  retainers. 

'  Knights  and  soldiers,'  he  said,  in  clear  trumpet  tones 
which  could  be  heard  even  by  the  sentinels  on  the 
battlements,  'before  I  go  forth  to  battle,  it  is  meet  that  I 
should  appoint  a  Castellan  to  have  charge  of  my  castle 
of  Blauncheflour,  and  this  I  do  now  before  ye  all 
assembled,  in  the  person  of  my  dear  lady  and  countess, 
Emma,  daughter  of  the  valiant  William  Fitzosbern.  I 
appoint  her  to  the  sole  and  supreme  command,  and  to 
have  as  deputies  under  her,  and  as  military  advisers, — 
but  under  her  pleasure,  and  to  be  dismissed  if  she  think 
fit, — Sir  Hoel  de  St.  Brice  and  Sir  Alain  de  Gourin. 
Knights  and  gentlemen,  you  who  are  about  to  go  forth 
to  battle  with  me,  and  to  share  my  dangers,  and,  I  hope, 
my  successes,  I  make  you  witnesses  of  the  fact  of  this 
appointment,  so  that  if  I  fall  in  the  chances  of  the  field, 
you  may  hurry  to  my  lady's  standard  and  reinforce  it 
with  your  strength.  Knights  and  soldiers  of  the  garrison, 
I  charge  ye  to  serve  your  Castellan  and  liege  lady  with 
faithfulness  and  fervour  ;  to  render  her  humble  obedi- 
ence, and  to  defend  her  as  ye  would  defend  your  own 
lady-loves,  wives,  and  children.  I  commit  her  and  my 
castle,  and  with  them  my  joy  and  my  honour,  to  your 
care.     Justify  my  trust ! ' 

As  he  spoke  he  handed   the   keys   of  the    castle    to 


THE  STANDARD  OF  REVOLT.  153 

Emma,  who  took  them  with  trembling  fingers  and 
attached  them  to  her  girdle,  looking  at  the  ranks  of  steel- 
clad  men  around  her  with  a  brave  though  blanched  face. 

A  great  roar  of  cheering  rolled  round  the  spacious 
courtyard,  such  as  Emma  had  never  heard  in  her  life 
before,  though  she  was  to  hear  its  like  in  the  coming 
months.  Asseverations  and  vows  and  battle  -  cries 
mingled  in  wild  confusion,  shouted  from  stentorian 
lungs  in  more  than  one  language.  '  Dex  aie  ! '  cried  the 
Normans  ;  and  the  Bretons  cried  '  Guader  et  IMontfort ! ' 
'  Aoie  ! '  '  Heysaa  ! '  and  '  The  Holy  Rood  ! '  from 
English  of  varying  types  ;  while  the  knights  shook  their 
lances,  and  cried  to  God  to  shield  their  lady  in  their 
absence.  Arms  clashed,  and  horses  stamped,  and  it 
seemed  as  if  all  the  dogs  in  Norwich  were  barking. 

When  the  tumult  had  somewhat  subsided,  and  the 
startled  pigeons  were  circling  back  to  their  favourite 
perches  on  the  battlements,  Emma,  with  a  beating  heart, 
made  her  little  speech  in  answer.  Turning  first  to  the 
garrison,  she  said, — 

'  I  thank  ye  all  for  your  devotion,  good  sirs  and 
soldiers!'  and  her  clear,  flute-like  voice  was  to  the  full 
as  distinct  as  that  of  the  carl.  '  Nor  do  I  doubt  that  ye 
will  do  your  duty  to  God,  to  your  earl,  and  to  mc,  his 
deputy,  in  whatsoever  sore  straits  ma)-  befall.  'I'o  nou, 
noble  knights,'  she  continueil,  turning  to  the  Ljroup  who 
were  about  to  depart  with  the  carl,  '  I  return  thanks  for 
your  courtesy,  and  beg  you  to  bear  in  mind  that  my 
lord's  fortunes  and  fair  fame,  nay,  even  his  life,  do  in 
some    measure    depend     upon    the    sharpness    of    )-our 


154  THE  STANDARD  OF  REVOLT. 

swords,  and  your  promptness  to  use  them  in  his  behalf, 
and  therefore  every  blow  ye  strike  will  be  struck  in  my 
defence,  for,  in  sooth,  I  should  die  if  ill  or  dishonour 
came  to  him  !  ' 

The  cheers  of  the  garrison  and  the  vows  of  the 
knights  to  do  their  devoir  by  their  lord  burst  forth  more 
tumultuously  than  before ;  but  the  countess,  turning  to 
her  husband,  said  in  a  low  voice, — 

'  I  can  bear  no  more,  Ralph.  Farewell !  May  Our 
Lady  and  St.  Nicholas  guard  thee  and  bring  thee  shortly 
home ! ' 

She  held  out  her  hands  to  him  appealingly,  and  he, 
pressing  them,  bent  forward  hastily  and  kissed  her  on 
the  forehead. 

^  A  Dieii,  dear  lady  ! '  he  said,  with  a  voice  less  steady 
than  her  own.  '  Forget  not  to  name  me  in  thine 
orisons  ! ' 

He  stepped  forward  and  mounted  his  impatient 
destrier,  which,  excited  almost  to  madness  by  the  cheer- 
ing of  men  and  the  clash  of  arms,  pranced  and  curveted 
proudly  as  he  felt  his  master's  hand.  The  trumpets 
blared,  the  portcullis  creaked  upon  its  hinges,  and  the 
drawbridge  clanked  upon  its  chains. 

The  gay  cavalcade  set  forth  on  their  adventures,  none 
knowing  how,  or  when,  or  if  ever,  they  should  return. 
The  armed  heels  of  the  steeds  clattered  upon  the  pave- 
ment and  thundered  over  the  drawbridge,  and  lusty 
cheers  rent  the  air  before  and  behind  them,  from  the 
waiting  host  upon  the  plain,  and  from  the  garrison  in 
the  courtyard  of  the  castle. 


THE  STANDARD  OF  REVOLT,  155 

Emma,  with  a  heavy  heart,  ascended  the  circular 
staircase  in  the  north-eastern  angle  of  the  keep,  her 
ladies  following,  and  went  round  to  the  southern  side  of 
the  battlements,  whence  they  commanded  a  view  of  the 
country  for  many  miles  around,  and  could  see  the  earl's 
army  in  glittering  array  upon  the  space  within  the 
barbican,  and  also  the  road  by  which  they  would  march 
away,  that  same  broad  Ikenicld  way  by  which  the  young 
countess  had  entered  the  town  such  a  short  time  before, 
happy  in  her  bridegroom's  society. 

The  troops  assembled  in  order  of  march.  A  cloud  of 
archers  and  slingers  in  the  van,  chiefly  Bretons  ;  after 
them  the  bills  and  battle-axes,  and  the  Anglo-Saxon 
contingent  with  their  round  red  shields  and  great  two- 
edged  seaxes — the  weapon  from  which  they  got  their 
name  of  Saxons,  though  it  was  modified  from  the 
ancient  scythe-shaped  blade  to  a  straight,  double-edged 
sword  ;  next  in  order,  the  javelins  and  pikcmen,  and 
men  of  various  arms,  many  only  wielding  stout  clubs  of 
oak  and  ash,  or  carrying  long  staves.  Then,  glittering 
and  shining,  the  body  of  knights  headed  by  the  earl. 
Near  him  rode  Sir  Guy  de  Landerneau,  the  richest  and 
most  powerful  of  De  Guader's  Breton  vassals,  to  whom 
was  accorded  the  honoin'  of  bearing  the  gold  and  black 
standard  of  the  earl — the  standard  of  revolt. 

Next  after  Sir  Guy  rode  his  body -squire,  young 
Stephen  le  Hareau,  the  handsomest  and  most  promising 
of  all  the  aspirants  for  knighthood  who  rode  in  Ralph  de 
Guader's  train,  the  darling  of  the  ladies'  bower,  after 
whom   more  than   one  fair  face   looked   wistfully  as  he 


I  s6  THE  S TA NBA RD  OF  RE  VOL  T. 

went  away,  full  of  high  hopes  and  visions  of  glory,  bent 
on  '  winning  his  spurs,'  and  wearing  till  he  had  done  so, 
as  the  custom  was,  a  golden  chain  around  his  right  arm. 
Laughing  and  fearless  as  he  rode  away,  with  the  blue 
summer  sky  reflected  in  his  blue  Norseman's  eyes,  little 
did  they  who  watched  him  dream  in  what  plight  they 
would  see  him  return.  After  them  followed  pages 
leading  Jiacqiienks  which  their  masters  might  ride  when 
the  weight  of  their  armour  had  fatigued  them  and  their 
fiery  war-steeds.  Next  the  baggage  on  sumpter  mules, 
and  a  second  body  of  archers  and  slingers  to  protect 
the  rear. 

So  they  rode  away  on  the  bright  summer  morning, 
and  Emma  and  her  ladies  watched  their  slow  progress 
from  the  battlements  till  the  last  glimmer  of  the  glitter- 
ing armour  was  lost  in  the  distance,  her  eyes  following 
them  by  wood  and  mere,  now  hidden  by  thickets,  now- 
crossing  the  open  moorland  covered  with  golden  gorse, 
now  startling  a  solitary  heron  from  his  post  amongst  the 
marshes,  now  a  skein  of  wild  fowl  from  some  shining 
pool. 

Eadgyth  watched  beside  the  countess  with  eager  eyes, 
and  a  great  hope  in  her  bosom  that  her  countrymen 
might  yet  come  by  their  own  again.  A  delusive  hope, 
and  one  she  would  scarcely  have  held  if  she  had  known 
more  of  the  facts  of  the  case.  The  English  hated  their 
conqueror,  and  found  his  yoke  oppressive.  If  Eadgar 
yEtheling  had  been  man  enough  to  stand  against 
William,  and  lead  them  in  revolt,  they  might  have 
struggled    to    overturn   the    Norman ; — even   Waltheof 


THE  STANDARD  OF  REVOLT.  157 

they  might  have  welcomed  as  a  national  chieftain ; — but 
they  saw  too  clearly  that  Ralph  de  Guader  and  Roger 
of  Hereford  were  bent  only  on  their  own  advancement, 
to  rally  in  numbers  to  their  banners.  Small  gain  would 
it  be  to  them  to  pull  William  from  the  throne  only  to 
place  one  of  his  turbulent  barons  in  his  stead. 

But  the  patriotic  talk  which  the  Earl  of  East  Anglia 
had  affected,  with  the  hope  of  gaining  Saxon  aid,  had 
been  as  honey  to  the  listening  ears  of  Eadgyth,  and  had 
helped  her  to  bear  the  trial  of  seeing  strangers  in  the 
palace  which  had  been  Harold's  aforetime.  She  had 
almost  forgiven  Ralph  his  part  at  Senlac,  and  was 
building  the  most  noble  castles  in  the  air  as  she  watched 
the  rebel  army  marching  away. 

But  the  young  countess,  torn  with  doubts,  in  bitter 
anguish  for  both  husband  and  brother,  watched  with 
clasped  hands  and  a  set,  pale  face,  and  spoke  not  a  word  ; 
but  at  last,  when  even  her  anxious  gaze  could  no  longer 
discern  a  vestige  of  the  moving  force,  she  turned  to 
Eadgyth. 

'Let  us  to  our  bower  amid  stone  walls,  sweet,' she 
said.  '  I  had  hoped  to  have  done  with  such  \\hen  I  left 
the  stormy  borders  of  Wales,  and  came  hither  to  peace- 
ful Norfolk.  At  least,  I  had  thought  that  their  shelter 
would  be  needed  only  for  protection  against  the  wild 
Danish  Vikings,  not  to  guard  me  from  my  own  folks.' 

She  sighed  deeply,  and  Eadgyth  scarce  could  think  of 
consolation.  Like  mo.st  other  people  in  all  days  and  all 
places,  it  seemed  to  them  that  their  times  were  sadly  out 
of  joint. 


158  THE  STANDARD  OF  REVOLT. 

So  they  descended  from  their  post  of  observation,  and, 
crossing  the  courtyard,  entered  the  Constable's  Lodge, 
which  was  to  be  their  home  till  the  war-engines  of  the 
royal  forces  compelled  them  to  shelter  behind  the  solid 
walls  of  the  keep. 

The  bovver  De  Guader  had  prepared  for  his  bride  was 
as  magnificent  and  comfortable  as  the  resources  of  the 
times  permitted  ;  and  here  Dame  Amicia  de  Reviers  sat 
awaiting  them,  her  infirmities  having  prevented  her 
from  climbing  the  steep  newel  staircase  of  the  great 
tower. 

The  pretty  bower-maidens  clustered  round  the  vener- 
able old  lady,  and  chattered  to  her  gaily  of  all  that  had 
taken  place,  vying  with  each  other  in  recalling  all  the 
details  of  the  stirring  sight  the}^  had  just  witnessed,  and 
in  conveying  them  to  her  dull  ears. 

But  Dame  Amicia  felt  keenly  that  what  was  but  a 
pleasant  excitement  to  most  of  them  must  have  been 
acute  anguish  to  her  darling. 

'  Where  is  your  lady,  children  ? '  asked  she  ;  but  only 
Eadgyth  had  noticed  that  before  they  left  the  great 
tower,  the  countess  had  slipped  quietly  away  from  them. 

She  had  gone  to  the  oratory,  that  little  oratory  which 
is  still  shown  to  those  who  visit  the  remains  of  Norwich 
Castle. 

The  archway  by  which  she  had  entered  was  supported 
by  two  columns  with  ornamental  capitals.  At  the  angle 
wxre  carved  pelicans,  in  their  piety  vulning  their  breasts. 

'  Ah  !  '  thought  Emma  as  she  passed  them,  '  if  I  could 
strip  my  own  breast,  and  so  make  soft  the  beds  of  those 


THE  STANDARD  OF  REVOLT.  159 

I  love  !  Brother  and  husband  !  Ah  me,  what  sufferings 
may  await  them  !  The  warrior's  lonely  death  on  the 
cold,  pitiless  earth,  or  worse,  that  of  the  prisoner  on  the 
colder  flags  of  the  dungeon  of  their  foe !  William  is 
without  mercy.  St.  Nicholas,  make  my  Ralph  prevail !' 
She  shook  from  head  to  foot  with  a  shudder  of  dread, 
as  she  threw  herself  upon  her  knees  before  the  altar  ; 
but  the  tears  she  had  so  long  repressed  would  not  now 
come  to  her  relief  Dry-eyed,  with  a  dull,  persistent 
pain  at  her  heart  that  made  each  breath  a  sigh,  she 
stretched  up  her  arms  in  mute  supplication  to  the  Help 
of  the  helpless  for  aid. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

ST.    NICHOLAS   FOR   GUADER  ! 

The  original  plan  of  campaign  drawn  out  by  the  Earls 
of  East  Anglia  and  Hereford  had  been  sadly  marred 
by  the  defection  of  Waltheof,  whose  counties  of  Hun- 
tingdon and  Northampton  lay  between  them,  so  that, 
instead  of  being  a  bond  of  union,  they  had  now  become 
adverse  territory. 

With  Waltheof  assisting  them,  only  Worcestershire 
and  Warwickshire  would  have  divided  them,  but  since  he 
had  left  them  in  the  lurch,  they  must  needs  fight  half 
across  England  to  effect  a  junction.  They  had  this 
comfort,  however,  that  Waltheof  had  left  the  country 
in  order  to  make  his  peace  with  the  king,  and  would 
not  personally  encounter  them,  while  their  positions  at 
the  extremes  of  east  and  west  exposed  any  force 
attacking  either  of  them  to  be  itself  attacked  in  the 
rear  by  the  other.  Further,  the  unsettled  state  of  the 
Welsh  border,  and  the  readiness  of  the  Celts  to  seize 
any  excuse  for  invasion,  rendered  Hereford's  movement 
doubly  formidable  for  the  king's  lieutenants. 

De  Guader  hoped  that,  for  this  reason,  the  main  force 
of  the  opponents   might   be   turned   towards   Hereford, 

IGO 


ST.  NICHOLAS  FOR  GUADER  !  i6i 

and  that  he  might  be  upon  them  before  they  were 
aware  that  he  had  taken  the  field.  The  hope  proved 
delusive. 

When  he  reached  his  manors  at  Swafifham,  of  which 
place  he  was  lord,  he  found  that  the  royal  army  was 
almost  upon  him,  and  that  he  must  give  battle  there 
and  then. 

Ralph  had  need  to  put  forth  his  best  powers  of 
generalship,  for  the  force  against  him  was  led  by  four 
of  William's  most  brilliant  officers  : — 

Earl  William  de  Warrenne  and  Surrey,  the  husband 
of  the  king's  stepdaughter  Gundred,  to  whom  had  been 
given  twenty-eight  manors  in  Yorkshire,  and  one 
hundred  and  thirty-nine  lordships  in  Norfolk,  and  who 
was  building  a  fine  castle  at  Acre  near  Swaffham,  so 
that  he  was  Ralph's  neighbour,  and  probably  no  ver\- 
cordial  one.  The  Norman  earl  had  won  experience  of 
Fenland  fighting  in  the  campaign  against  Hereward  a 
few  seasons  previously,  and  had  never  forgiven  the 
English  for  killing  his  brother,  who  was  leading  the 
king's  men  through  the  terrible  quagmires  of  the  Isle  of 
Ely  ;  so  he  ground  his  teeth  and  swore  strange  oaths, 
as  was  the  way  of  the  Normans,  that  now  the  time  for 
retribution  had  come. 

Next  there  was  Robert  Malet,  son  of  the  brave  old 
Sir  William,  who  had  helped  to  bear  the  corse  of 
Harold  Godwinsson  to  its  first  burial,  and  who  took 
with  him  to  his  own  grave  the  love  and  respect  of 
Normans  and  English  alike,  leaving  his  son  an  in- 
heritance of  lands  in  Norfolk  and  Suffolk. 

L 


1 62  ST.  NICHOLAS  FOR  GUADER  ! 

Besides  were  two  warlike  bishops  :  Odo  of  Bayeux, 
the  king's  half-brother,  and  Geofifrey  of  Coutances, 
warriors  whose  prestige  was  itself  equal  to  a  large  body 
of  troops. 

After  the  death  of  Robert  the  Devil,  Arlete  of 
Falaise,  the  mother  of  William  the  Conqueror,  married 
a  knight  named  Herluin  de  Conteville,  and  bore  him 
two  sons,  Robert,  Count  of  Mortain,  and  Odo,  Bishop 
of  Bayeux. 

Odo  had  a  large  share  of  the  military  genius  of  his 
great  half-brother  ;  nevertheless  the  chronicles  say:  '  He 
was  no  instigator  to  war,  nor  could  he  be  drawn  thereto, 
and  therefore  much  feared  by  the  soldiers.  But  upon 
great  necessity,  his  counsels  in  military  affairs  were  of 
special  avail,  so  far  as  might  consist  with  the  safety  of 
religion.  To  the  king,  whose  brother  he  was  by  the 
mother,  his  affections  were  so  great  that  he  could  not 
be  severed  from  him,  no,  not  in  the  camp.'  He  equipped 
one  hundred  ships  of  war  as  his  contribution  to  the 
invasion  of  England,  and  fought  in  person  at  Hastings, 
for  which  he  was  rewarded  by  the  earldom  of  Kent,  one 
hundred  and  eighty-four  lordships  in  that  county,  and 
two  hundred  and  fifty  in  other  parts  of  England, 
including  Rising,  in  Norfolk,  where  he  built  a  fine 
castle. 

Affluence  did  not  improve  his  character.  He  grew 
rapacious  and  greedy,  and  degraded  his  sacred  office  by 
flagrant  immoralities. 

The  followers  of  these  four  redoubtable  leaders  far 
out-numbered  De  Guader's,  and  were  better  drilled  and 


ST.  NICHOLAS  FOR  GUADER  !  163 

equipped  ;  moreover,  the  defection  of  Waltheof  had 
caused  many  of  the  Saxon  and  Anglo- Danish  nobles  to 
join  the  Norman  camp,  seeing  a  good  opportunity  to 
curry  favour  with  the  Conqueror. 

Ralph's  naturally  dauntless  spirit  was,  however,  strung 
by  the  impossibility  of  turning  back,  and  he  formed 
his  troops  in  the  strongest  position  he  could,  taking 
advantage  of  the  great  Saxon  fosse  and  rampart 
known  as  the  Devil's  Dyke,  which  runs  from  Eastmore 
to  Narborough,  lining  the  steep  vallum  with  his  archers 
and  slingers  and  javelin  men,  and  massing  his  cavalry 
on  the  firm  open  ground  of  Beachamwell  Heath,  with 
the  hope  of  forcing  his  foe  into  the  morasses  that 
lay  around  Foulden  ;  for  in  those  days  the  Bedford 
level  was  undrained,  and  there  were  no  old  and  new 
Bedford  rivers  to  gather  the  waters,  no  Denver  sluice 
to  carry  them  off;  the  sweltering  fens  stretched  far 
and  wide,  and  miles  and  miles  of  land  that  is  now 
fertile  pasturage  was  haunted  only  by  wildfowl  and 
fishes. 

Before  commencing  the  attack,  the  leaders  on  the 
king's  side  sent  forward  a  knight  with  a  herald  carrying 
the  royal  standard,  and  accompanied  by  trumpets  to 
sound  a  parley.  This  being  acceded  to  by  De  Guader, 
and  a  knight  bearing  his  standard  sent  forth  to  meet 
them,  the  royal  envoy,  who  was  no  less  a  person  than 
the  Bishop  of  Bayeux  himself,  rode  forward,  and 
delivered  his  charge  in  so  loud  and  clear  a  voice,  that 
it  was  audible  to  the  cluster  of  knights  who  gathered 
round  De  Guader,  before  the  herald  officially  repeated  it. 


1 64  ST.  NICHOLAS  FOR  GUADER  ! 

Ralph  was  not  ill-pleased  to  see  the  Bishop  of  Baj-eux 
come  forward,  for  the  cruelties  he  had  perpetrated  while 
sharing  the  vice-regency  of  England  with  William 
Fitzosbern  had  won  him  the  hatred  of  the  Saxons,  and 
the  Normans  regarded  him  with  jealousy  and  distrust ; 
so  that  of  all  William's  leaders  he  was  least  likely  to 
win  Ralph's  followers  to  his  side  by  personal  influ- 
ence. 

Yet  the  warlike  bishop  was  well  fitted  to  grace  the 
saddle  of  a  knight.  Tall,  robust,  and  handsome,  in  the 
prime  of  youthful  manhood,  he  looked  indeed  a  noble 
cavalier,  and  any  who  saw  him  might  well  deem  that 
the  feats  by  which  he  had  made  himself  famous  at 
Hastings  might  be  eclipsed  by  his  prowess  on  the  field 
before  him. 

His  eyes  sparkled  with  the  excitement  of  the  coming 
struggle,  and  his  upright  and  muscular  form  was  armed 
cap-a-pie  in  all  the  trappings  of  knightly  harness.  Only 
in  one  particular  did  his  equipment  differ  from  that  of 
the  warriors  around  him.  He  bore  neither  lance  nor 
sword,  but  only,  hanging  from  his  saddle-bow,  a  huge 
mace  with  iron  spikes,  a  weapon  more  deadly  than 
either,  be  it  said,  though  less  like  to  spill  blood  ;  by  this 
subterfuge  professing  to  obey  the  law  of  the  Church 
which  forbade  his  order  to  shed  blood. 

He  now  came  as  a  messenger  of  peace — on  conditions. 
But  what  conditions  ! 

'Noble  barons  and  knights,'  he  shouted,  'here 
present  in  contumacious  assembly !  In  the  name  of 
our  king-lord,  William  of  Normandy,  supreme  sovereign 


S  r.  NIC  HO  LA  S  FOR  G  UA  DER  /  165 

of  these  realms,  by  the  will  of  the  sainted  Eadward  the 
Confessor,  and  the  election  of  the  Witanagemot ' — ('  No  ! ' 
thundered  some  of  the  Anglo-Saxons  who  followed 
Ralph  de  Guader) — '  By  the  will  of  the  sainted  Eadward 
the  Confessor,  and  the  election  of  the  Witanagemot  1 ' 
repeated  the  bishop  in  still  louder  tones,  'we,  his  repre- 
sentatives, do  here  demand  of  you  that  ye  deliver  u}) 
the  body  of  the  vile  and  audacious  traitor,  Ralph  dc 
Guader,  sometime  Earl  of  Norfolk  and  Suffolk,  but 
now  under  attainder  for  high  treason  ;  and  the  persons 
of  his  Breton  followers,  here  arranged  in  blank  rebellion 
against  their  liege  lord  and  sovereign,  William  the 
Norman,  upon  which  deliverance  and  your  immediate 
return  to  allegiance,  your  past  misdeeds  will  receive  free 
pardon,  be  ye  Norman  or  Saxon.' 

Ralph  de  Guader's  dark  visage  was  convulsed  \\ith 
passion  when  he  heard  himself  and  his  countrymen  thus 
singled  out  and  excepted  from  all  hope  of  pardon  ;  and 
he  vowed  within  his  throat  that  if  his  Norman  and 
Saxon  vassals  and  allies  accepted  the  terms,  himself 
and  his  bold  Bretons  would  forthwith  turn  upon  them, 
and  so  entreat  them  that  few  should  live  to  profit  by 
their  delincjuency. 

But  the  doubt  was  short-lived.  Ralph  was  a  brave 
leader  and  a  generous  master,  and,  moreover,  well 
skilled  in  raising  the  ambitions  of  such  as  had  embarked 
in  his  boat.  A  shout  of  derision  hailed  the  bishop's 
harangue  before  the  herald  had  time  to  repeat  it 
formally,  rising  first  from  a  dozen  or  so  of  lusty  throats 
in  Ralph's  near  neighbourhood,  and  spreading  afterwards 


1 66  ST.  NICHOLAS  FOR  GUADER  ! 

through  the  whole  host.  Ralph  himself  flung  back  the 
answer. 

*  Tell  your  base-born  usurper,'  he  shouted,  '  that  the 
Normans  have  tired  of  his  ingratitude,  and  deem  his 
offers  of  pardon  as  little  like  to  be  fulfilled,  as  the  fair 
promises  of  lands  and  honours  he  made  them  before 
Hastings.  Tell  him  that  the  Saxons  have  yet  to  avenge 
Harold  Godwinsson,  and  win  back  their  broad  acres, 
and  that  the  Bretons  are  not  yet  within  the  power  of 
the  murderer  of  Count  Alain  and  Count  Conan.' 

'  It  is  well ! '  replied  the  bishop,  who,  notwithstanding 
the  elasticity  of  his  ecclesiastical  conscience,  preferred 
honest  fighting  to  the  chopping  off  the  hands,  ears, 
and  noses  of  prisoners  which  must  needs  have  followed 
the  acceptance  of  his  terms.  '  After  such  a  message, 
we  need  have  no  compunction  in  striking  the  first 
blow.' 

The  day  was  overcast,  and  heavy  masses  of  grey 
cloud  were  scudding  up  from  the  south-west,  shedding 
blinding  gushes  of  rain  at  intervals,  and  a  gusty, 
whistling  wind  swept  the  open  heath.  As  Bishop  Odo 
withdrew  to  the  ranks  of  the  king's  men,  a  wilder 
whistle  shrilled  through  the  air,  and  sharp  cries  of  pain 
startled  the  larks  and  the  whin-chats  from  their  nests 
among  the  gorse. 

The  battle  had  commenced  with  an  almost  simul- 
taneous flight  of  arrows  on  each  side.  For  a  long  time 
De  Guader  acted  stubbornly  on  the  defensive.  His 
only  chance  was  to  keep  the  king's  forces  at  bay  along 
the  Devil's  Dyke.     But  the  line  to  be  guarded  was  very 


ST.  NICHOLAS  FOR  GUADER  !  167 

long,  and  the  number  of  the  foe  enabled  them  to  attack- 
many  points  at  once. 

He  stood  with  his  standard  and  his  cavalry  on  the 
high  ground  towards  Beachamwell,  where  alone  they 
had  any  chance  to  manoeuvre;  but  down  in  the  fens 
towards  Fouldon  the  fierce  clashing  of  axe  on  spear,  the 
clang  of  swords  on  buckler  and  mail,  the  whiz  of  arrows 
and  the  sharp  twanging  of  bows  mingled  strangely  with 
the  shrill  screaming  of  frightened  waterfowl ;  and  the 
wild  shouts  of  the  combatants  frightened  many  a  skein 
of  mallards  and  plovers  in  their  reedy  haunts,  from 
which  they  rose  on  whirring  wings,  with  clamorous 
shrieks  of  fear. 

Alike  on  the  heath  and  in  the  fen,  Normans  were 
striving  with  Normans,  and  Saxons  with  Saxons,  while 
the  Bretons  fought  with  the  courage  of  desperation, 
well  knowing  that  not  only  ruin,  but  the  most  terrible 
tortures  and  mutilation  awaited  their  defeat. 

Time  after  time  the  assailants  strove  to  throw  bridges 
across  the  dyke,  and  more  than  once  succeeded  in 
fixing  their  grappling-irons  upon  the  rampart. 

Time  after  time  they  were  beaten  back,  leaving  so 
many  dead  and  dying  behind  them  that  the  bodies  of 
their  friends  might  almost  have  served  for  a  bridge. 

But  numbers  prevailed  at  lengih.  There  came  an 
hour  when  De  Guader's  archers  and  slingers,  thinned  b)- 
the  continuous  iron  hail  of  arrows  and  quarrels  to  which 
they  had  been  unceasingly  exposed,  no  longer  sufficed 
to  guard  the  extended  line  of  the  rampart.  While  they 
were   defending  one  hotl)'-contestcd  point,  the   cncm)- 


i68  ST.  NICHOLAS  FOR  GUADER  I 

forced  another,  and  before  they  were  well  aware  of 
their  misfortune,  a  large  body  of  knights  had  gained  the 
eastern  side  of  the  dyke. 

De  Guader  instantly  formed  his  cavalry  and  led 
them  to  the  charge,  with  the  cry  of  '  St.  Nicholas  for 
Guader  ! '  and  the  ground  shook  beneath  the  thundering 
feet  of  the  destriers. 

' Dex  Aie  et  Notre  Dame!'  shouted  the  warlike 
bishop,  who  led  the  foe,  and  the  mailed  hosts  closed 
with  a  crash  that  was  heard  by  the  warders  on  the  walls 
of  the  new  castle  that  William  de  Warrenne  was 
building  at  Castle  Acre. 

But  when  De  Guader  and  his  followers  had  hewn 
their  way  through  the  thick  squadron  that  met  them,  a 
fresh  body  stood  ready  for  them,  and  further  hosts  were 
pouring  across  the  dyke. 

The  odds  were  so  overwhelming,  that  the  East 
Anglian  earl  was  forced  to  fall  back  ;  an  awful  retreat, 
for  his  troops  were  harassed  in  the  rear  by  the  remnant 
of  the  band  they  had  just  charged. 

The  royalist  knights  pressed  after  them,  driving  them 
back  and  back  off  the  firm  heath  towards  the  morasses 
near  Fouldon ;  many  a  gallant  horseman  floundering 
into  the  quagmires  and  stifling  in  the  black  ooze. 
Carnage  grew  fierce  round  the  East  Anglian  banner, 
and  anxious  eyes  followed  the  waving  gold  and  black 
plumes  upon  De  Guader's  helm,  for  many  felt  that  to 
lose  their  leader  would  be  to  lose  the  day.  In  those 
times  individual  prowess  often  turned  the  fortune  of  a 
field.     It  was   the   era  of  single   combats,  and   a  thrill 


ST.  NICHOLAS  FOR  CUADER  .'  169 

passed  through  all  the  host,  when,  after  long  seeking, 
Ralph  and  Odo  met  at  length.  It  was  as  if  the  whole 
field  paused  to  watch. 

They  had  fought  side  by  side  at  Hastings,  these 
two  splendid  warriors,  to  Ralph's  shame  be  it  spoken  ! 
They  had  sat  side  by  side  at  many  a  festive  board, 
and  had  tried  their  strength  and  dexterity  in  the 
friendly  struggle  of  the  tourney.  Now  they  met  as 
mortal  foes,  hurling  insult  at  each  other. 

'Pitiful  renegade,  twice  told  a  traitor!'  cried  Odo, 
'how  darest  thou  draw  good  steel  to  defend  thine 
unknightly  carcase  ? ' 

'  Nay !  My  sword  has  better  cause  than  ever  hath 
thy  mace,  unsanctified  shaveling ! '  retorted  Ralph 
'  the  cause  of  a  fell-monger's  grandson  ! ' 

The  taunt  struck  home,  since  it  included  Odo  with 
William. 

Striking  the  rowels  into  their  horses,  they  flew  at  each 
other  like  tigers. 

The  head  of  Ralph's  lance  had  been  chopped  off  a 
{q.\\  moments  before  b)'  a  blow  from  a  Saxon  seax,  so 
he  had  but  his  sword  to  oppose  to  the  bishop's  awful 
mace. 

A  gleam  of  steel,  and  a  dull,  horrible  crash  !  A  wild 
yell  o{  execration  and  triumph  from  a  hundred  throats  ! 
For  both  the  champions  were  down,  I'lach  party  closed 
up  to  protect  its  leader,  and  a  fearful  conflict  began 
around  the  fallen  heroes. 

But  though  Odo  was  down,  GeolTre}-  of  Coutanccs, 
W^illiam  do  Warrennc,  and   Robeit   Malet  were  ready  to 


I70  ST.  NICHOLAS  FOR  GUADER  .' 

take  his  place,  and  shrewd  blows  were  given  and  taken 
in  the  neighbourhood  of  each  of  these  redoubtable 
champions,  while,  although  the  East  Anglian  earl  had 
many  brave  knights  in  his  following,  the  insurgents 
were  virtually  without  a  leader. 

Ralph's  fall  decided  the  fate  of  the  day,  if  it  had  ever 
been  doubtful.  The  flight  of  his  army  was  only  delayed 
by  the  frantic  valour  of  the  Bretons,  who  were  bent  on 
selling  their  lives  as  dearly  as  possible. 

The  tide  of  battle  rolled  eastwards,  gradually  de- 
generating into  a  pursuit  and  butchery,  and  the  original 
site  of  the  struggle  was  left  to  the  dead  and  the  dying. 

The  wind  had  risen,  shaking  the  white  tassels  of  the 
cotton-grass  which  covered  acres  of  the  marshes,  and 
bending  the  aspens  till  the  white  undersides  of  their 
leaves  alone  were  visible,  as  if  it  were  preparing  white 
shrouds  for  the  dead.  As  the  clouds  parted,  the  red  sun 
shone  forth  between  their  scudding  masses,  flushing 
them  to  vivid  crimson,  and  shedding  a  lurid  light  upon 
the  ensanguined  field  of  fight,  glittering  redly  on  the 
harness  of  the  fallen,  and  painting  the  pale  faces  of  the 
dying  with  a  hue  as  bright  as  the  life-blood  that  welled 
from  their  wounds.  But  no  wind  could  shake  yonder 
tuft  of  reeds  as  it  is  shaken  !  Behold  a  motley  figure 
comes  cautiously  forth  and  advances  along  the  field, 
peering  curiously  into  the  faces  of  the  fallen  as  it  comes. 

It  is  Grillonne,  the  Earl  of  East  Anglia's  jester. 
Grim  jests  he  must  make  if  he  would  suit  his  wit  to  his 
surroundings  ! 

And  grim  jests  he  docs  make  ;  for  often,  when,  after 


Dislioj)  Odo  nieets  De  Guader, 


ST.  NICHOLAS  FOR  GUADER  .'  171 

considerable  toil,  he  has  gained  sight  of  the  face  of  a 
dead  or  wounded  man,  half  buried  under  fallen  friends 
and  foes,  he  expresses  his  disgust  and  abhorrence  at 
recognising  one  of  William  of  Normandy's  supporters, 
by  pulling  his  nose  or  moustachios  ; — not  very  violentl}-, 
it  is  true,  and  usually  following  up  the  indignity  by 
placing  the  victim's  head  in  as  comfortable  a  position  as 
the  circumstances  allowed. 

But  at  last  he  found  a  face  which  he  treated  otherw  ise. 

*  Ah,  my  dear  lord ! '  he  cried,  placing  his  hands 
tenderly  under  the  senseless  head  ;  he  could  do  no 
more,  for  a  heap  of  slain  and  the  hoof  of  a  dead  charger 
were  piled  above  the  earl. 

'Oh,  sweet  nuncle,  open  thine  eyes,  thy  dear  eyes, 
and  glad  the  heart  of  thy  poor  faithful  fool.  God 
forbid  !  Thou  canst  not  be  dead  !  For  thy  lady's  sake 
thou  canst  not  be  dead  ! '  He  took  from  his  breast  a 
small  flask  containing  a  strong  cordial,  and  poured  a 
portion  of  its  contents  down  the  carl's  throat,  tenderly 
wiping  away  the  blood  which  oozed  from  a  contused 
wound  in  his  forehead  ;  and  after  a  time  Ralph's  eyes 
opened  languidly, — opened  and  closed  again  almost 
instantly. 

'Good  lad!  Good  lad!'  exclaimed  the  old  jester 
cheerfully.  'There  is  life  in  thee  }-ct,  I  well  sec, 
and  we  will  have  thee  all  safe  and  sound  yet,  Holy 
Mary  be  praised !  But  I  cannot  do  the  job  single- 
handed,  valiant  hero  as  I  am,  and  I  like  not  to  leave 
thee,  lest  thine  enemies  return.  Hist!  I  have  a 
notion  ! ' 


172  ST.  NICHOLAS  FOR  GUADER  .' 

He  took  off  his  little  parti-coloured  cape,  and  got  it 
upon  the  earl's  shoulders ;  and  he  drew  from  his  pocket 
his  jester's  cap,  which  he  had  thrust  therein  to  still  the 
noise  of  the  bells,  and  decorated  therewith  the  earl's 
stately  head  ;  and  he  took  the  earl's  battered  helm, 
which  had  rolled  off,  and  lay  near  by,  with  its  gold  and 
black  plumes  mightily  draggled,  and  fastened  it  upon 
the  head  of  a  dead  Breton  knight.  Sir  Guy  de  Landerneau, 
who  had  fallen  at  a  little  distance  from  his  leader,  and 
not  long  afterwards.  Next,  he  armed  himself  with  the 
mail  jerkin  and  steel-cap  of  one  of  the  slain  archers, 
added  thereto  a  short  sword,  then  fled  precipitately  to 
find  help  to  extricate  the  earl. 

And  he  was  but  just  in  time. 

Scarcely  had  he  disappeared,  when  a  searching  party 
of  the  king's  men  came  to  that  quarter  of  the  field,  and 
carried  off  triumphantly  the  dead  knight  upon  whom 
Grillonne  had  fixed  the  earl's  helmet.' 

'  See  Appendix,  Note  C. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

HOW   THE   CONQUEROR   DEALS   WITH    REBELS. 

The  days  passed  drearily  for  the  Countess  of  East 
Anglia,  mewed  up  within  the  protecting  walls  of 
Norwich  Castle,  and  the  anxiety  she  felt  on  behalf  of 
her  husband  and  brother  made  the  hours  seem  un- 
utterably long. 

Her  office  of  Castellan  was  no  unusual  one  for 
women  in  those  days.  The  annals  of  chivalry  teem 
with  stories  of  noble  ladies  who  held  castles  for  their 
male  relatives  or  feudal  superiors,  but  as  no  encm}- 
was,  at  present,  near  the  castle,  it  did  not  afford  her 
much  occupation. 

An  occasional  hawking  or  fishing  party  was  organised 
for  her  entertainment,  but  the  disturbed  state  of  the 
country,  the  fear  of  treachery,  and  the  uncertainty  of 
the  whereabouts  of  the  king's  forces,  rendered  so  large 
an  escort  necessary,  and  entailed  so  much  trouble 
and  preparation,  that  the  sport  was  robbed  of  all 
zest.  If  orders  were  given  in  the  c\cning,  it  most 
frequently  happened  that  the  morning  would  be 
wet  and  uninviting ;  if  left  till  a  suitable  morning 
had    dawned,   all    freshness    had    vanished     before    the 

173 


174   J^O]]'  THE  CONQUEROR  DEALS  WITH  REBELS. 

advancing  sun  ere  so  large  a  party  could  be  put  in 
motion. 

Moreover,  Emma  had  little  heart  for  such  entertain- 
ment, which  chiefly  served  to  bring  back  memories  of 
happier  days,  when  Earl  Roger  and  Ralph  de  Guader 
had  been  beside  her ;  and  all  the  prowess  of  her  Danish 
hawk  did  but  remind  her  of  her  husband  and  his 
dangers.  Soar,  and  stoop,  and  chancelier  as  he  might, 
he  failed  to  move  her  enthusiasm,  and  did  but  render 
her  more  sad,  while  the  encomiums  of  Sir  Alain  De 
Gourin,  who  made  a  point  of  attending  her  on  these 
expeditions,  irked  rather  than  pleased  her.  His  criti- 
cisms, admiring  as  they  were,  seemed  to  her  impertinent 
when  passed  on  a  bird  which  Ralph  de  Guader  had 
pronounced  as  one  of  the  most  perfect  he  had  ever 
seen. 

So  she  strove  to  cheat  the  hours  by  embroidering  a 
magnificent  mantle  for  her  absent  lord,  using  all  the 
most  elaborate  Saxon  stitches,  which  she  had  learned 
from  Eadgyth,  who  sat  ever  at  her  elbow  to  help  her, 
if  she  forgot  her  lesson.  Such  gorgeous  mantles  were 
much  in  fashion  among  the  Norman  exquisites. 

Eadgyth  herself  was  busy,  by  Emma's  desire,  making 
an  altar-cloth  for  the  chapel  of  the  castle,  in  which 
the  De  Guader  and  East  Anglian  arms  were  mingled 
somewhat  incongruously  with  pictorial  illustrations  of 
the  life  of  St.  Nicholas.  The  chaplain  of  the  aforesaid 
chapel  had  drawn  the  designs,  being  a  very  clever 
limner  and  illuminator,  and  he  took  great  interest  in 
the  progress  of  the  pious   work,  losing  no  opportunity 


HO IV  THE  CONQUEROR  DEALS  WITH  REBELS.    175 

to   visit   the   fair   enibroideress   when   she  was  engaged 
upon  it. 

He  was  a  young  Breton  of  good  family,  but  had  sunk 
his  patronymic  for  the  priestly  '  Father  Pierre,'  the 
venerable  title  being  rather  incongruous  to  his  boyish 
face  and  shy,  shrinking  ways.  He  was  an  ascetic 
enthusiast,  believing  sternly  in  the  mortification  of  the 
flesh,  and  his  young  cheeks  were  sunken,  his  large  dark 
eyes  hollow  and  glittering,  and  his  tall  figure  painfully 
emaciated.  But  his  sternness  was  all  for  himself;  to  his 
flock  he  was  the  kindest  of  pastors,  and  in  his  humility 
he  did  not  venture  to  enter  upon  political  matters, 
accepting  the  judgment  of  his  feudal  superior  as  para- 
mount, and  not  to  be  questioned. 

Emma  did  not  feel  drawn  to  him.  Her  practical 
nature  could  not  comprehend  or  draw  comfort  from  his 
mystic  and  dreamy  ecstasies,  and  she  needed  a  strong, 
clear-headed  guide,  to  advise  her  on  the  tangible  and 
imminent  perplexities  that  encircled  her. 

'  Oh  for  an  hour  of  Father  Theodred  ! '  she  sighed 
one  day,  when  Father  Pierre  had  left  the  apartment, 
after  making  a  vague  reply  to  a  question  she  had 
addressed  to  him,  touching  some  small  urgent  duty  of 
the  hour.  '  Our  good  chaplain  hath  more  anxiety 
regarding  the  ordering  of  thy  needlework  warriors  for 
the  adornment  of  his  chapel,  than  for  the  bodies  of  the 
living  men  who  are  defending  it,  mcthinks  !  In  good 
sooth,  Eadgyth,  I  feel  tired  of  this  stitchery.  I  would 
the  wind  blew  not  so  keenly  on  the  battlements.  I 
could  be  ever  watching  the  horizon  like  some  sea-rover's 


176   HO IV  THE  CONQUEROR  DEALS  WITH  REBELS. 

deserted  mate,  looking  out  for  the  glint  of  sun  on  a 
steel  headpiece,  as  such  an  one  would  watch  for  a  sail. 
The  stone  walls  well-nigh  stifle  me !  I  feel  entombed 
sitting  here,  where  I  cannot  see  if  any  approach  to  bring 
tidings  of  my  dear  lord  !  Fetch  me  mantle  and  head- 
rail,  sweet  damsel.  Methinks,  if  I  sit  here  longer, 
chewing  the  cud  of  bitter  reflection,  I  shall  go  stark 
staring  mad.  Let  us  go  to  the  battlements  and  fight 
the  wind  ! ' 

Eadgyth,  whose  more  phlegmatic  temperament  did 
not  seek  relief  from  mental  pain  in  physical  exercise, 
smiled  at  the  restlessness  of  her  friend,  but  instantly 
laid  aside  her  needlework,  aud  sought  her  lady's  tire- 
woman, who  brought  the  wished-for  garments. 

In  a  few  moments  Emma  and  Eadgyth  had  left 
the  lodge,  ascended  the  spiral  staircase  in  the  great 
tower,  and  were  pacing  upon  the  battlements.  It  was 
one  of  those  grey  chilly  days,  frequent  in  the  Eastern 
counties,  when  the  north-west  wind  brings  haze  from 
the  Fenlands,  and  the  Wash,  and  the  North  Sea ; 
covering  the  sky  with  a  leaden  pall,  and  bringing  winter 
into  summer's  heart.  Columns  of  dust  rose  along  the 
roadways,  but  the  wind  swept  away  all  mist  and  fog, 
and  the  country  showed  bleak  and  naked  to  the 
horizon. 

The  sentinels  saluted  their  countess  and  her  lady- 
in-waiting  with  a  deep  reverence,  but  they  were 
accustomed  to  see  their  fair  Castellan  scanning  the 
distance,  as  if  distrusting  that  any  eyes  could  be  so 
keen  and  faithful  as  her  own. 


HO IV  THE  CONQUEROR  DEALS  WITH  REBELS.    177 

They  paced  the  circuit  of  the  battlements  some  five 
or  six  times,  and  played  with  the  pigeons  that  crowded 
upon  the  merlons,  and  greeted  them  with  soft  cooing 
and  much  fluttering  of  soft-coloured  pinions,  for  they 
knew  well  that  Emma's  gipsire  was  generally  stored 
with  peas  for  them. 

Suddenly  Emma  caught  her  bower-maiden  by  the 
wrist. 

*  See  ! '  she  cried.  '  Aly  sail  is  in  sight !  Dost  thou 
not  catch  the  glint  of  a  morion  over  yonder  ? ' 

They  were  on  the  southern  side  of  the  keep,  and  she 
indicated  a  far  speck  upon  the  course  of  the  Ikenicld 
way. 

'  Nay,' replied  Eadgyth,  'mine  eyes  reach  not  so  far, 
the  more  especially  as  this  stinging  wind  brings  unbidden 
tears  into  them.' 

'I  am  right,  Eadgyth  —  it  is  a  horseman  approaching! 
IIo,  sentinel  I  thy  vigil  is  no  very  keen  one  ! ' 

'  In  sooth,  lad)-,  I  can  see  naught,'  answered  the 
sentinel,  with  a  respectful  salutation. 

It  had  been  a  favourite  amusement  with  iunma,  when 

a  girl  at  Clifford   Castle,  to  challenge  her  maidens  and 

squires,  and  any  noble  visitor  who  might  chance  to  be 

present,  to  a  trial  of  sight,  from  the  walls  of  that  goodly 

fortress,    and    seldom    had    she    found    any   who  could 

rival  her  for  length  of  vision.     She  proved  to  be  right 

on  this  occasion.     A  horseman  was  approaching,  and 

at  a  gallop,  and   the    sentinels  soon  acknowledged  his 

coming  and  ga\-e  the  fitting  signal. 

A  while   later,   and    tb.e    traveller    had    reached    the 

M 


178    HO IV  THE  CONQUEROR  DEALS  WITH  REBELS. 

barbican,  and,  after  a  short  parley,  the  portculHs  was 
raised,  the  drawbridge  lowered,  and  he  rode  forward 
into  the  courtyard  of  the  castle. 

Emma  descended  full  of  tremulous  excitement.  Sir 
Alain  de  Gourin  met  her,  on  his  w^ay  to  the  courtyard, 
to  question  the  new-comer. 

'  I  will  send  word  at  once,  if  he  prove  to  be  one  of 
the  earl's  men,  or  brings  any  message  or  news,'  said 
Sir  Alain. 

'  Nay,'  replied  Emma,  '  I  will  myself  go  down.  Each 
moment  of  waiting  will  prove  a  year.' 

So,  with  Eadgyth  beside  her,  and  her  train  of  ladies 
following,  she  went  down  to  the  great  portal  on  the 
east  side  of  the  keep,  whence  a  short  time  before  she 
had  bidden  '  God  Speed  '  to  her  noble  spouse  and  his 
army. 

The  horseman  was  surrounded  by  a  curious  crowd 
of  soldiers  and  domestics.  Archers  and  men-at-arms 
of  all  sorts  and  conditions  from  the  guard-room,  pages, 
squires,  cooks,  and  scullions,  had  all  come  forth  to  see. 
Certain  of  the  garrison  w^ho  had  been  trying  their 
strength  for  pastime  in  a  wrestling  bout,  had  left  their 
sport,  and  stood  with  brawny  arms  akimbo,  and  mouths 
agape.  Even  the  pale  face  of  the  chaplain  was  amongst 
the  group,  his  dark  eyes  gazing  with  pity  and  awe  upon 
the  man  who  formed  its  centre. 

He  was  in  sorry  plight  !  His  horse,  flecked  with 
foam  and  bloody  with  spurring,  head  down,  nostrils 
red,  and  limbs  trembling  with  fatigue,  looked  as  though 
another    mile     had     been     utterly    beyond     his    spent 


The  Tower  Stairs. 


HOH'  THE  CONQUEROR  DEALS  WITH  REBELS.    179 

powers.  The  casque  of  the  rider  was  battered,  and  his 
countenance  so  gashed  with  wounds  as  to  be  beyond 
recognition,  nor  did  his  surcoat  or  harness  in  any  way 
help  to  show  his  identity,  so  stained  and  torn  were  they. 
Shield  he  had  none,  and  his  right  arm  hung  straightly 
at  his  side. 

He  took  no  heed  of  the  crowd  buzzing  round  him, 
nor  of  the  countess  standing  at  the  portal  of  the  keep, 
with  Sir  Alain  de  Gourin  at  her  right,  and  Sir  Hoiil  de 
St.  Brice  on  her  left,  and  her  train  of  ladies  and  squires 
behind  her,  but  sat  on  his  panting  steed,  with  his  chin 
sunk  on  his  breast. 

Suddenly  one  from  the  circle  around  him  cried,  '  Mart 
de  via  vie  !      He  has  lost  a  foot  as  well  as  a  hand  ! ' 

A  murmur  of  surprise  burst  round  him. 

'  Those  arc  no  gashes  gained  in  fair  fighting !  His 
nose  is  slit !  Saints  and  angels!  He  has  been  in  the 
hands  of  the  Bastard's  men  !  We  all  know  how  William 
serves  his  prisoners  ! ' 

'  Speak,  Sir  Fugitive,  or  Sir  Messenger,  or  whatever 
your  name  is,'  thundered  Dc  Gourin,  'and  speedily! 
Is  it  so?  Who  art  thou?  For  thy  beauty  is  so  spoiled 
we  are  at  a  loss  by  what  title  to  greet  thee !  By  the 
rood  !  his  own  mother  would  not  know  him  ! ' 

The  countess  hastily  bade  her  leech  be  called,  and 
shuddered,  not  only  with  pity,  but  with  a  dread  pre- 
sentiment of  evil,  as  the  ghastly  witness  of  men's 
merciless  cruelty  turned  his  maimed  face  towards  them, 
his  bloodshot  eyes  staring  vacantK-,  half  dazed  with 
terror  and  pain. 


I  So    HO]]^  THE  CONQUEROR  DEALS  WITH  REBELS. 

'It  is  all  over!'  he  muttered  hoarsely,  forcing"  his 
swollen  lips  to  utter  the  words  with  difficulty.  '  The 
earl  is  slain,  and  my  master  ;  and  the  army  is  scattered 
like  a  flock  of  sheep  !  Flee,  flee  !  They  are  coming- 
after  me  to  storm  the  castle  ! ' 

He  raised  his  right  arm,  from  which  the  hand  had 
been  riven,  the  stump  black  with  the  searing  of  red-hot 
irons  with  which  the  flow  of  blood  had  been  staunched, 
in  a  gesture  of  entreaty. 

A  fearful  witness  truly  as  to  what  might  be  expected 
to  follow  on  defeat. 

A  howl  of  fierce  anger  ran  around  the  court)"ard, 
and  many  a  strong  breast  heaved  with  an  indignant 
sob  of  impotent  rage  ;  curses  loud  and  deep  were 
showered  on  the  heads  of  William  of  Normandy  and 
his  vicegerents. 

'  Heed  him  not,  noble  Emma  ! '  cried  Sir  Hoel  de 
St.  Brice  hastily.  '  By  the  Holy  Virgin  !  'tis  but  a 
recreant  who  has  let  himself  be  made  prisoner,  and  now 
repeats  the  story  they  have  stuffed  him  with  !  Out  of 
his  wits  with  their  rough  treatment,  and  small  wonder! 
May  the  Foul  Fiend  seize  them  for  their  barbarity  !  ' 

'  Christ  be  my  witness,  I  speak  sooth ! '  cried  the 
unfortunate  fugitive.  '  I  am  Stephen  le  Hareau,  squire 
of  the  body  to  Sir  Guy  de  Landerneau,  and  I  swear 
by  the  Holy  Cross,  I  saw  the  earl  fall  with  mine  own 
eyes  ! ' 

'Thou  Stephen  le  Hareau?  Thou?'  shouted  Sir 
Alain  de  Gourin,  startled  out  of  his  equanimity  as  he 
looked   at   the   pitiful    object    before   his   eyes,   and    re- 


HOH'  THE  CONCIUEROR  DEALS  Wmi  REBELS.    iSi 

membered  the  handsome  gallant  he  had  seen  ride  from 
the  castle  gates  a  few  weeks  before. 

A  fresh  hiss  of  execration  burst  from  the  bystanders, 
as  the  cruelty  of  the  young  man's  fate  came  home  to 
them. 

Stephen  le  Hareau !  The  handsomest  and  most 
popular  squire  in  the  earl's  following !  They  knew 
him,  too,  for  a  brave  and  dauntless  soldier. 

Sir  Hoel  looked  towards  the  countess,  wondering 
how  she  would  bear  the  blow,  for  the  difficulty  with 
which  she  had  maintained  her  self-control  when  she 
had  parted  with  her  noble  bridegroom  had  been 
manifest  to  all,  and  now  the  worst  fears  she  could 
then  have  entertained  were  declared  to  have  come  to 
pass. 

But  Emma,  who  had  shrunk  from  the  approach  of 
evil,  stood  firm  to  meet  its  actual  contact.  Her  face 
was  white  as  marble,  and  her  lips  quivered,  but  she  said 
in  a  firm  voice, — 

'The  cruelty  this  poor  gentleman  has  undergone 
may  well  nerve  our  hearts  to  resistance.  St.  Nicholas 
grant  thou  art  in  the  right,  Sir  I  loci.  He  may  well 
deem  things  blacker  than  they  are !  I  prithee,  keep 
him  no  longer  answering  our  wiin  queries.  Let  him 
be  lifted  from  his  horse  and  carried  to  the  spital.  I  will 
tend  him  with  my  own  hands.  His  poor  steed  also, 
let  it  be  cared  for.' 

ICadgyth  and  sc\-eral  of  the  ladies  were  sobbing 
hysterically  behind  her.     She  turned  to  them. 

'Courage,   dames    and     damsels!'    she    said,    with    a 


1 82    //OJl'  THE  CONQUEROR  DEALS  WITH  REBELS. 

simple  dignity  that  shamed  them  into  self-control. 
'  I  have  heard  as  evil  tales  as  this,  and  found  them 
vanish  like  dreams  at  the  breaking  of  the  morn.' 

She  gathered  her  robes  around  her  and  swept  back 
into  the  keep,  and,  calling  her  tirewoman,  ordered  her 
to  bring  sundry  essences  and  simples,  which,  like  every 
noble  lady  of  the  time,  she  kept  by  her,  the  science  of 
medicine  being  chiefly  in  feminine  hands  in  those  days. 
Then,  bidding  Eadgyth  to  attend  her,  she  proceeded 
at  once  to  the  spital,  to  leech  the  unfortunate  squire. 

She  stopped  a  few  moments  in  the  chapel,  to  direct 
the  chaplain  to  offer  masses  for  the  souls  of  those  who 
had  fallen  in  the  battle.  A  sob  caught  her  breath  as 
she  remembered  the  earnest  repetition  with  which 
Stephen  le  Hareau  had  declared  that  the  earl  was 
amongst  them. 

But  she  dare  not  think,  and  went  on  hurriedly  to 
direct  that  others  should  be  offered  for  the  safety  of 
those  who  had  escaped,  and  for  the  success  of  their 
undertaking. 

Her  ministrations  to  the  wounded  man  kept  at  bay 
the  fierce  troop  of  agonising  thoughts  that  were  throng- 
ing down  upon  her  like  a  pack  of  hungry  wolves. 
Rolling  bandages,  and  preparing  salves  and  unguents, 
she  had  scarce  time  to  speculate  upon  the  probability 
of  the  truth  of  her  patient's  direful  news.  True,  no 
doubt,  it  was  as  far  as  his  knowledge  went,  but  there 
was  hope,  as  Sir  Hoel  had  suggested,  that  his  report 
of  the  battle  had  been  supplied  by  their  opponents,  and 
himself  sent  off  by  them,  as  a  messenger  of  evil  tidings, 


HO]V  THE  CONQL'EROR  DEALS  WITH  REBELS.    183 

with  the  express  intent  of  demoralising  the  garrison  of 
Blauncheflour. 

The  physical  sufferings  of  the  poor  squire  were  so 
terrible  to  witness,  that  Emma  almost  forgot  the  awful 
shadow  of  death  and  impending  peril  that  hung  over 
her  own  head,  and  the  hours  flew  past  without  her 
noticing  their  flight.  All  that  she  and  her  leech  and 
her  ladies  could  do  to  lessen  his  pain  was  done,  but  it 
was  not  much. 

Even  in  these  days  little  could  be  done  for  such  a 
case,  with  all  the  skill  of  advanced  science. 

Presently  a  page  came  to  the  countess  with  a  message 
from  the  two  knights,  St.  Brice  and  Dc  Gourin,  begging 
her  to  Gfive  them  audience  in  the  council-chamber. 

'  Watch  over  my  sufferer,  Eadgyth,'  said  Emma. 

When  she  entered  the  apartment  in  which  the  two 
knights  were  awaiting  her,  she  quivered  with  apprehen- 
sion as  she  saw  their  grave  faces.  Sir  Hod's  kindly 
visage  was  white  as  his  silver  hair,  and  even  Sir  Alain's 
inflamed  countenance  was  a  shade  less  purple-red  than 
usual,  while  his  expression  was  distinctly  anxious. 

They  both  hesitated  to  speak,  but  the  countess  broke 
the  pause. 

'Tell  me  the  worst,  gentle  sirs,  I  pray  you.  Suspense 
is  ever  hardest  to  bear,  and  I  see  you  have  ill  news.' 

Sir  Hoel  advanced  and  took  her  hand  in  both  his 
own,  a  little  forgetting  the  ceremony  due  to  her  rank, 
in  his  huge  pity  for  her  youth  and  the  forlorn  fate  that 
he  feared  too  surely  had  befallen  her. 

'Alas,  dear  ladv,  the  news  is  ill  indeed!     Sir  Walter 


1 84    HO]]'  THE  CONQUEROR  DEALS  ]]'ITH  REBELS. 

Deresfort,  and  the  Saxon  thegn,  Alfnoth  of  Walsliam, 
with  some  dozen  men-at-arms,  have  ridden  in  from 
Cambridgeshire,  and  confirm ' — a  sob  broke  his  voice — 
'  in  every  item  the  dire  tidings  brought  by  poor  Stephen 
le  Hareau.' 

'Do  they  say,  then,  that  I  am  a  widow?'  asked 
Emma  in  a  strange,  hard  voice,  with  so  awful  a  calm 
in  it,  that  the  thick-skinned  Sir  Alain,  who  was  little 
wont  to  heed  the  tears  or  shrieks  of  women,  or  to  spare 
them  in  any  respect  if  they  stood  in  his  way,  shuddered 
as  he  heard  it.  He  thought  the  countess  was  going 
mad. 

'  I  fear,'  answered  Sir  Hoel,  '  there  is  no  doubt  the 
earl  is  slain,  St.  Nicholas  rest  his  soul ! ' 

'Then,  gentlemen,'  asked  Emma  in  the  same  strange 
tone,  '  what  is  to  be  done  } ' 

'  God  knows ! '  exclaimed  Sir  Hoel,  the  great  tears 
running  down  his  furrowed  face,  and  dripping  upon  his 
hauberk. 

'  Noble  lady,'  said  Sir  Alain  eagerly,  speaking  for 
the  first  time,  '  it  is  well  known  that  the  wrath  of  the 
Primate,  and  of  his  master,  William  the  Norman,  is 
principally  enkindled  against  the  countrymen  of  the 
late  earl.  Thy  safety,  most  noble  countess,  is,  of  course, 
what  every  man  in  the  garrison  would  give  his  life  to 
insure,  therefore  my  humble  counsel,  for  what  it  may 
be  worth,  is  that  thou  shouldest  at  once  take  ship  with 
the  trusty  Bretons  under  my  command,  and  make  for 
Bretagne,  and  thy  late  husband's  estates  of  Guader  and 
Montfort.' 


nO]\'  THE  CO\(2rEROR  DEALS   /r/77/  REliEI.S.    185 

'What  is  thy  counsel,  Sir  Hoel?'  demanded  Emma, 
still  with  the  same  unnatural  calm. 

'Dear  lady,  I  would  advise  thee  as  doth  Sir  Alain.' 

'  But  would  not  the  garrison,  thus  bereft  of  half  their 
numbers,  fall  an  instant  prey  to  the  enemy?'  asked 
Emma. 

'  It  is  not  William's  policy  to  provoke  the  Saxons, 
and  to  his  own  countrymen  he  is  ever  complacent,' 
urged  De  Gourin,  with  the  same  eagerness.  '  Therefore 
my  meaning  is,  that  the  castle  be  surrendered  at  once, 
in  which  case  the  garrison  would  probabh'  be  softly 
dealt  with,  we  Bretons  being  out  of  the  way  ;  whereas 
further  resistance  will  be  useless,  and  will  but  further 
provoke  their  vengeance,  the  style  of  which  we  have 
seen.' 

'  Art  thou  of  this  advice  also.  Sir  Hoel  ? '  demanded 
Emma. 

Sir  Hoel  bowed  his  head.  '  Dear  lady,'  he  said, 
'there  is  no  doubt  that  the  Primate  hath  animosity 
against  us  Bretons,  and  may  prove  kinder  to  Normans 
and  Saxons  ;  yet  methinks  I  will  stand  by  them,  and 
advise  them  not  to  try  his  mercy  sooner  than  is  needful. 
I  counsel,  therefore,  that  thou  shouldest  so  far  follow 
Sir  Alain's  advice,  as  to  take  ship  with  himself  and  his 
band  for  Bretagne.  I-'or  my  part,  I  will  fight  for  it  with 
the  garrison  remaining  to  me.  IMaunchcflour  has  been 
built  to  stand  a  siege,  and  we  ma}-  well  victual  it  before 
supplies  can  be  cut  off.     Wc  may  j'ct  make  good  terms.' 

'There  spoke  the  spirit  of  a  true  knight!'  cried 
ICmma,  turning  on   De  Gourin  with  so  fierce  a  flash  in 


i86   HOJV  THE  CONilUEROR  DEALS  WITH  REBELS. 

her  eyes,  that  he  started,  so  great  a  change  was  it  from 
the  stony  indifference  of  her  former  manner. 

'  Go,  fair  sir,  if  it  suits  thee !  Take  all  thy  faint- 
hearted mercenaries  with  thee  to  their  native  Bretagne  ! 
I  will  stay  with  Sir  Hocil  and  defend  this  castle,  which 
the  earl  gave  into  my  charge.  The  late  earl,  thou 
said'st  ?  Methinks  thou  art  wondrous  quick  to  make 
so  certain  of  his  death  !  Methinks  all  these  gallant 
gentlemen  who  have  galloped  back  to  the  safe  walls  of 
Blauncheflour  in  such  hot  haste,  scarce  waited  to  see 
if  he  was  wounded  or  slain  !  For  nic  he  will  never  be 
the  late  earl.  On  earth  or  in  heaven  he  is  my  husband 
still,  and  I  will  hold  his  castle,  hoping,  perhaps  selfishly, 
that  he  will  come  to  claim  it.  I  will  hold  it  if  only  to 
have  vengeance  on  his  foes  ! ' 

Sir  Hoel  watched  her  in  delighted  surprise.  Sir 
Alain  flushed  hotly  under  her  attack,  but  could  not 
but  admire  the  high-spirited  beauty  as  she  hurled  her 
indignant  taunts  at  his  head. 

'  Now,  by  all  the  saints !  thou  art  unjust  to  me  and 
my  poor  following,  noble  lady  ! '  he  exclaimed.  '  My 
object  was  but  to  secure  thy  safety.' 

'  If  the  earl  be  indeed  slain,'  said  Emma,  with  a  tremor 
in  her  voice,  '  my  safety  boots  me  but  little  ;  if  he  be 
not,  it  is  important  that  Blauncheflour  hold  out  to  the 
last  gasp.  Besides,  ye  know  not  how  it  fares  with  my 
brother  of  Hereford  ;  his  arms  have  perchance  prevailed, 
and  he  may  be  able  to  relieve  us.' 

'A  slender  hope,'  said  Sir  Alain  impatient!}'.  'But 
our  lives  are  at  thy  disposal,  noble  Emma.' 


HOir  THE  CO.YiJUEROR  PEALS  WITH  REBELS.    187 

He  accompanied  this  speech  with  a  smile  of  homage, 
which  he  meant  to  be  irresistibly  touching  and  pathetic  ; 
for  a  new  idea  had  come  into  the  adventurer's  bullet-head, 
which  somewhat  gilded  the  pill  of  hard  fighting  without 
hope  of  plunder,  which  the  countess's  decision  forced 
him  to  swallow.  He  remembered  that  if,  as  he  fully 
believed,  De  Guader  was  slain,  the  beautiful  Emma 
had  become  a  widow  with  a  goodly  dower !  for  even 
if,  as  was  probable,  her  late  husband's  possessions  in 
England  were  forfeit  through  his  treason,  and  all 
English  and  Norman  property  of  her  own,  the  estates 
of  Guader  and  Montfort  were  beyond  William's  juris- 
diction, and  she  would  doubtless  draw  rich  rents  from 
them.  This  rich  prize  was  here  under  his  hand,  and,  to 
a  great  extent,  in  his  power.  If  he  played  his  cards 
well,  he  might  secure  her  for  himself,  albeit  she  was 
William  of  Normandy's  kinswoman. 

But  the  good  old  Sir  Hocl  looked  at  her  fair,  flushed 
face  with  very  different  thoughts.  '  God  bless  thcc, 
dear  young  lady,'  he  said,  with  a  husky  voice.  '  He 
would  be  a  coward  indeed  who  grudged  to  give  his  life 
for  thee !  Though,  for  that  matter,  we  must  needs  fight 
for  our  own  sakes,  so  we  need  not  ti}-  to  make  out  that 
all  our  valour  is  on  thy  behalf! ' 

Emma  met  his  kind  eyes,  and  scarce  bore  their 
sympathy. 

She  turned  away  hastil}-.  'There  must  be  more 
wounded  in  the  spital,'  she  said  ;  '  I  must  tend  tlicm. 
Make  what  preparation  needs  for  holding  out  under  a 
long  siege.' 


1 88    /fO]]'  THE  CONQUEI^OR  DEALS   WITH  REBELS. 

And  so  saying  she  quitted  the  apartment. 

'  Alas ! '  Sir  Hocl  murmured,  more  to  himself  than 
to  De  Gourin,  when  she  was  gone,  '  I  doubt  she  is 
buoying  herself  with  a  false  hope,  and  that  our  noble 
De  Guader  will  glad  her  eyes  no  more.' 

'  By  the  rood  ! '  answered  Sir  Alain,  '  I  doubt  so  too. 
But  methinks  so  fair  a  widow,  and  so  well-dowered  and 
youthful  withal,  may  find  consolation  on  this  side  the 
grave.  Holy  Mary  !  A  dame  of  spirit !  If  our  motley 
garri.son,  Saxons,  Danes,  Flemings,  and  other,  were 
of  metal  that  would  ring  to  the  same  tune^  our  case 
would  not  look  so  desperate.' 

'  Methinks  the  mercenaries  under  thy  hand  are  the 
most  doubtful  metal  within  the  walls,  good  sir,' answered 
Sir  Hocl  gravely,  eyeing  his  companion  somewhat 
keenly.  '  If  thou  canst  get  the  right  ring  out  of  them, 
I  think  I  can  answer  for  the  rest ! ' 


CHAPTER    XV. 

'O    HIGH   AMBITION    LOWI.Y   LAHO  !  ' 

The  choughs  and  ravens  which  had  flapped  hizily 
away,  with  noisy  wings  and  harsh  croaking,  when  the 
RoyaHsts  had  come  to  search  amongst  the  dead  and 
wounded  for  Ralph  de  Guader,  had  settled  down  to 
their  banquet  again  as  soon  as  their  disturbers  had 
departed,  mistakenly  laden  with  the  body  of  the  Breton 
knight  whom  Grillonne  had  decorated  with  the  earl's 
helmet.  Their  foul  beaks  were  busy  with  the  flesh  of 
the  dead  and  the  eyes  of  the  living. 

The  harsh  clamour  of  these  noisy  revellers  [)icrcctl  at 
length  to  the  fainting  ears  of  the  fallen  earl,  who  was 
in  some  measure  revived  by  the  cordial  which  Grillonne 
had  poured  down  his  throat.  Consciousness  came  back 
to  him,  a  poor  exchange,  under  such  circumstances,  for 
kind  oblivion.  I'or  he  could  move  neither  hand  nor  foot, 
and  the  weight  upon  his  chest  was  as  the  oppression  of 
a  fearful  nightmare — a  nightmare  from  which  there  was 
no  awaking.    He  lay  helpless — the  living  under  the  dead  ! 

Above  him  stretched  the  twilight  sky,  still  flushed 
with  fleeting,  blood-red  clouds,  beyond  which,  from  pale 
green  pools  of  infuiite  depth,  glimmered,  here  and  there, 


1 90  '  O  HIGH  A  MBITION  LOWLY  LA  ID  I ' 

a  silvery  star.  To  the  right  stretched  the  sombre  heath, 
its  rising  hills  crested  with  fantastic  figures  of  contorted 
slain,  men  and  horses  stiffened  into  uncouth  and  terrible 
forms ;  while  groaning  wounded  were  heaped  between 
them,  their  panting  anguish  not  less  awful  than  the 
silence  of  the  dead. 

To  his  left  also  were  witnesses  of  battle,  but  not  so 
many,  for  on  that  side  the  hungry  morasses  had 
swallowed  them  up.  To  the  south  and  west  the 
measureless  fen  stretched  to  the  horizon,  crimson  to  its 
farthest  verge  with  the  ensanguined  glow  of  the  sun, 
the  tall  reeds  reddened  like  warrior's  lances  that  had 
been  dipped  in  the  life-blood  of  the  foe. 

The  air  was  full  of  the  awful  scent  of  wounds  and 
blood,  and  the  weird,  dank  odours  of  the  decaying 
sedges,  while  the  wailing  wind  piped  and  moaned  over 
the  wold,  swaying  the  rushes,  though  scarcely  making 
a  ripple  on  the  protected  surfaces  of  the  bottomless 
lagoons. 

Mallard  and  teal  and  plover  came  circling  back  to 
their  haunts  in  the  lonely  swamps,  now  that  the  din  of 
battle,  which  had  frightened  them,  was  over  and  done  ; 
and,  as  the  twilight  deepened,  bats  and  owls  came 
forth  with  silent  wings  to  hunt  their  night-roaming 
pre\'. 

Ralph's  open  eyes  looked  only  into  the  sky,  and  at  the 
wild,  wind-driven  clouds  fleeting  across  the  calm,  im- 
mutable heavens  beyond,  as  the  struggling  hosts  of 
mortals  fleet  over  the  face  of  eternity. 

His  soul  was  filled  with  an   overwhelming    sense    of 


'  O  HIGH  A MBl TR hV  LOU 7.  ] '  LA H)  !  ''  191 

desolation   and  guilt.      He  had  brought  his    fate    upon 

himself,  and  he  must  face  the  Shadow  of  the  Valley  of 

Death,  all  forsworn  and  blood-stained  as  he  was  ;  alone, 

helpless.     No  wife  to  comfort  him,  no  priest  to  absolve 

him, 

'Cul  oft'  even  in  the  blossoms  of  his  sin, 
Unhousel'd,   disappointed,  unanel'd.' 

Against  the  clear  spaces  of  the  sky,  he  saw,  high  up, 
almost  above  the  clouds,  an  ordered  flight  of  wild  swans 
passing  swiftly  westward  into  the  sunset  glow. 

Oh,  that  he  were  free  as  they,  winged  as  the  wind  ! 
His  spirit  writhed  in  fierce  rebellion.  He  put  forth  all 
his  force  in  a  wild  struggle  to  drag  his  limbs  from  the 
prisoning  mass  that  detained  them,  but  he  could  not 
lift  the  ghastly  burden  that  weighted  him  to  earth  an 
inch. 

'  Mary  in  heaven,  help  me  ! '  he  groaned.  '  I  am 
scarce  wounded,  and  so  strong  !  It  will  take  me  hours 
to  die,  and  these  foul  birds  will  perish  mine  eyes  !  ' 

The  cold  sweat  burst  from  his  brow,  and,  as  he 
writhed  again,  he  somewhat  shook  his  head,  and  the 
bells  on  the  jester's  cap  tinkled. 

He  quivered  with  astonishment,  and  contrived  so  far 
to  lift  his  head  as  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  points  of 
the  cape  which  covered  his  shoulders.  At  first  the  idea 
seized  him  that  he  was  no  longer  on  earth  at  all,  but  in 
purgatory,  and  dressed  in  a  jester's  garb,  in  that  his  sin 
had  been  through  the  folly  of  pride  and  mad  ambition. 
Then,  with  a  flash,  came  the  joyous  thought  of  Grillonnc, 
the  faithful,  the  ready  of  wit,  the  fertile  of  resource. 


192  '  O  HIGH  AMIU TION  LO]\'LV  LA  JD  !  ' 

iV  wild  gladness  came  to  him,  but  as  the  sky  grew 
dark,  and  the  stars  were  obscured  by  clouds,  hope  left 
him  again. 

'  If  it  w^erc  he  indeed,  he  has  forgotten  me,  or  has  met 
his  death  in  trying  to  save  me.' 

Then  all  the  joys  of  earth  passed  before  him  in  a  fair 
pageant,  and  he  thought  of  his  young  bride  with  her 
clear,  loving  eyes  that  he  might  never  see  again,  and 
to  whom  he  had  been  united  with  such  magnificence 
scarcely  a  month  before,  and  who  was  but  a  itw  short 
miles  from  the  scene  of  his  present  suffering  ;  and  at 
the  thought,  burning  tears  welled  from  beneath  his 
closed  lids  and  rolled  down  his  bronzed  cheeks,  moist- 
ening the  parti-coloured  edges  of  Grillonne's  cape. 

'  Ah,  it  is  bitter !  '  he  groaned. 

'  Not  more  bitter  for  thee  than  for  the  scores  and  tens 
of  scores  thou  hast  led  into  like  misery,'  said  awakened 
conscience  grimly. 

^ Mca  culpa!  nica  r/z/^rt.'' murmured  the  unfortunate 
warrior  in  his  anguish.  '  My  days  have  been  evil  in  the 
land.  I  have  sought  not  the  will  of  Heaven,  but  mine 
own  vain-glory.  But  oh,  Mary  Mother,  let  not  my  sins 
be  visited  on  the  head  of  my  sweet  lady  !  as  thou  wert 
a  woman,  protect  her  from  all  harm  !  Sure  William  will 
be  merciful  to  his  kinswoman.' 

Dismal  indeed  were  the  thoughts  that  chased  each 
other  across  his  restless  brain,  which  seemed  to  make 
up  by  its  activity  for  the  enforced  stillness  of  his  body. 
Visions  crowded  upon  him  of  his  castle  of  Klaunche- 
flour  in   flames,  and  his  lady  in  the  power  of  insulting 


'  O  HIGH  AMBITION  10  WL  V  LAID  /  '  193 

or  —  and  it  was  little  less  terrible  to  his  ambitious, 
jealous  spirit — too-courteous  conquerors,  some  one  of 
whom  might,  perchance,  find  favour  in  her  eyes  and 
drive  his  memory  from  her  heart. 

At  length,  however,  as  the  stillness  of  the  night  fell 
over  the  plain,  broken  only  by  the  moaning  wind  or  the 
agonised  groan  of  some  fellow-sufferer,  he  grew  calmer, 
and  a  deep  resignation  flooded  his  breast. 

' Mea  culpa!'  he  murmured  again.  Death  seemed 
inevitable,  and  he  bowed  his  spirit  humbly  to  accept  it 

Hark  !— 

The  mingled  anguish  and  joy  of  hope  awaked  once 
more.  For  the  silence  was  broken  by  a  sound  so  faint 
that  his  listening  ears  could  scarce  detect  its  repetition, 
distracted  as  they  were  by  the  tumultuous  pulses  which 
throbbed  at  the  possibility  of  escape.  Yet  why  hope 
rather  than  fear  ?  Why  should  the  sound  of  ap- 
proaching steps  mean  friends  rather  than  foes? 

The  fact  grew  certain.  Steps  were  approaching,  and 
were  accompanied  by  a  clash  of  arms  that  betokened 
soldiery. 

How  he  strained  to  catch  every  faint  sound  that 
might  indicate  the  direction  in  which  these,  his  fellow- 
men,  alive  and  strong  and  capable  of  help,  were 
moving ! 

'  St.  Nicholas  befriend  me  !     If  the  miracle  is  wrought 

that  I  be  rescued  from  this  living  tomb,  I  vow  to  make 

pilgrimage  to  the  Holy  Sepulchre  before  my  days  are 

done ! ' 

Then    he   shuddered    in    sick    misery    lest   the   band 

N 


1 94  '  O  HIGH  AMBITION  LOWLY  LAID  r 

should  pass  him  by  !  Better  a  blow  from  the  miseri- 
corde  of  an  enemy,  than  the  languishing  torture  of  his 
present  position. 

Others  thought  so  too,  for  he  heard  more  than  one 
piteous  cry  for  help. 

Then  he,  the  proud  earl,  lifted  up  a  feeble  voice  and 
craved  deliverance,  even  by  death  ! — 

And  it  came. 

'  Here  !  here  !  This  way,  my  lads,  this  way  ! '  cried 
the  familiar  voice  of  the  faithful  jester.  '  Look  you, 
galliards,  there  is  my  famous  cap  and  cape !  Saints  be 
praised !  He  wears  them  still.  The  Lord  grant  there 
is  a  living  skull  in  the  cap.  I  shrewdly  thought  I  heard 
him  squeak  ! ' 

'Ay,  Grillonne,  thou  didst,  sure  enough!'  cried  the 
earl ;  and  the  revulsion  of  feeling  from  despair  to  hope 
was  so  great  that  he  fainted  again. 

When  he  revived,  his  head  was  in  Grillonne's  arms, 
and  the  intolerable  weight  of  the  slain  who  had  fallen 
above  him  was  removed  from  his  limbs,  which,  however, 
were  so  numbed  that  he  could  not  move  them.  Half-a- 
dozen  stout  fellows,  archers,  slingers,  and  spearmen, 
were  bustling  about  him,  dimly  visible  by  the  light  of  a 
horn  lantern  which  one  of  them  carried. 

Grillonne,  seeing  his  eyes  open,  instantly  held  a  flask 
to  his  lips,  and  when  the  draught  had  helped  his  revival, 
nodded  sagely. 

'  'Tis  well  to  be  taken  for  a  fool  sometimes,  nuncle.' 
he  remarked,  twitching  his  tinkling  cap  from  the  earl's 
head.     '  Thy  fine  helmet  has  been  carried  off  in  triumph 


'  O  HIGH  AMBITION  LO  WL  V  LAID  ! '  195 

to  the  enemy's  camp  on  the  corse  of  poor  Sir  Guy  de 
Landerneau,  whom  I  bedecked  with  it ;  seeing  that,  as 
they  had  already  killed  him  as  dead  as  a  Norwich  red 
herring,  they  could  do  him  no  further  hurt.  'Twill  have 
given  us  time  even  if  they  discover  the  cheat,  as  most 
like  they  will,  for  so  many  of  them  are  full  well 
acquainted  with  thy  noble  hawk  nose.' 

'  Ah,  Grillonne  ready-wit/ said  the  earl, 'St.  Nicholas 
reward  thee !  That  prince  of  hypocrisy,  Lanfranc,  may 
say  that  jesters  have  no  hope,  and  are  doomed  without 
fail  to  the  worm  that  dieth  not  and  the  fire  that  knows 
no  quenching!^  But  I  tell  thee,  Grillonne,  he  in  hell 
shall  pray  to  thee  in  heaven  as  Dives  to  Lazarus  ! '  and 
the  groaning  noble  kissed  the  hand  that  lay  upon  his 
breast,  albeit  the  member  belonged  to  one  of  that  de- 
spised class,  for  death  is  a  greater  leveller  than  any 
democrat  or  republican  of  them  all,  and  Ralph  de 
Guader  had  held  long  converse  with  him. 

Grillonne  raised  the  hand  which  had  been  so  honoured 
to  his  own  lips  and  added  some  hearty  smacks  to  the 
aristocratic  salute  it  had  received. 

'  Nay,  my  dear  lord,'  he  said  in  a  rather  husky  voice, 
'  I  v/ould  fain  lay  that  hand  up  in  lavender  and  take  it  to 
heaven  with  me  when  I  die,  since  thou  thinkcst  I  have 
hope  to  get  there.  But  alack  !  we  have  rough  work  be- 
fore us  to  prevent  thee  from  getting  thither  before  thy 

1  '  D.  Have  jesters  hope?  M.  None.  In  their  wliole  design  tliey  are 
the  ministers  of  Satan.  Of  them  it  is  said  :  "  They  have  not  known  God, 
therefore  God  hath  despised  them,  and  the  Lord  shall  have  them  in  de- 
rision, for  mockers  shall  be  mocked."' — Lanfranc's  Elucidariuni,  p.  256, 
quoted  by  Hook,  Lives  of  the  Archbishops  of  Canterbury. 


1 96  '  O  HIGH  AMBITION  LOWLY  LAID  /  ' 

palace  is  prepared  for  thee.  Thou  art  not  saved  yet  by 
a  very  long  chalk.  If  St.  Nicholas  is  half  so  generous 
as  thou  deemest,  he  will  give  me  my  reward  at  once,  like 
a  free-handed  gentleman,  in  the  shape  of  success  to  the 
safe  ending  of  my  undertaking  ;  nor  must  we  spend 
further  time  in  palaver.' 

He  beckoned  to  the  men  who  were  with  him,  and  four 
of  them  came  forward  with  a  litter  roughly  woven  of 
osiers,  of  which  a  plentiful  supply  was  near  at  hand. 
Grillonne  and  another  lifted  the  earl  into  it,  and  they  set 
off  at  a  rapid  pace,  the  jester  guiding  them  along  the 
smoothest  path ;  and  watching  over  his  charge  with 
tender  care. 

To  De  Guader  it  seemed  as  if  he  were  couched  on 
pillows  of  softest  down,  notwithstanding  his  wounds 
and  the  pain  the  motion  caused  him,  for  the  joy  of 
being  rescued  from  his  horrible  entombment,  and  of 
having  yet  a  chance  of  life  and  love,  was  so  intense  that 
he  seemed  to  be  in  a  dream  of  bliss. 

His  eyes  filled  with  grateful  tears  each  time  that  a 
gleam  from  the  lantern  gave  him  a  fitful  glimpse  of 
Grillonne's  face.  Never  had  he  thought  to  be  so  glad 
to  look  on  that  wizened,  whimsical  countenance,  with 
its  oblique  eyes  twinkling  with  mingled  malice  and 
affection,  and  which  seemed  almost  quainter  under  the 
conical  steel-cap  with  the  nasal,  in  which  he  had  en- 
sconced it  on  giving  up  his  cap  to  the  earl,  than  in  that 
strange  headgear  itself 

The  way  w^as  no  flowery  one  either.  Slain  men  and 
horses  encumbered  the  bearers  at  every  step,  and  more 


•  O  HIGH  AMBITION  LOWL  V  LAID  / '  197 

than  one  pitiful  voice  from  some  wounded  wretch,  in 
such  ph'ght  as  the  earl  had  just  been  rescued  from,  be- 
sought them  in  mercy  to  stop  and  give  aid,  for  the  sake 
of  Mary  Mother  and  the  saints  in  heaven.  Most  pitiful 
of  all  was  the  cry  for  '  Water,  for  the  love  of  Christ ! ' 
from  men  whose  limbs  were  actually  immersed  in  the 
rippling  edges  of  the  meres  or  engulfed  in  the  slimy 
ooze,  and  who  were  so  faint  from  wounds,  or  so  set  fast 
by  the  slain  above  them,  that  they  could  reach  no  drop 
wherewith  to  moisten  their  parched  lips  and  slake  the 
burning  death-thirst  which  tormented  them.  But  they 
cried  to  deaf  ears;  nay,  when  entreating  arms  were 
thrown  around  the  limbs  of  the  litter-bearers,  a  sharp 
cut  across  the  knuckles  with  dagger  or  anlacc  speedily 
unclasped  the  detaining  fingers,  whether  they  belonged 
to  friend  or  foe. 

It  was  rough  treatment,  but  the  men  were  risking 
their  lives  in  their  endeavour  to  save  that  of  the  earl, 
and  delay  would  have  been  fatal  both  to  him  and  to 
themselves.  The  fact  that  the  body  of  Sir  Guy  dc 
Landerneau  had  been  removed  by  the  enemy  proved 
that  they  desired  to  make  certain  of  De  Guader's  fate, 
and  on  finding  their  mistake  they  might  at  any  time 
return  to  rectify  it. 

The  moon  had  risen  by  this,  and  shone  between  the 
swift  fleeting  clouds  that  sped  across  the  sk\-.  l^y  her 
light  and  the  uncertain  glimmer  of  the  lantern,  Ralph 
saw  that  two  of  his  rescuers  wore  the  winged  helms  and 
long  moustaches  and  golden  tores  distinguishing  the 
costume  of  the    Danes.       His   heart    leapt   with   hope 


198  '  O  HIGH  AMBITION  LO  WL  V  LAID  !  ' 

that  the  messengers  he  had  despatched  to  the  court  of 
King  Sweyn  had  moved  the  warHke  monarch  to  seize 
the  opportunity  of  striking  a  blow  at  his  ancient  enemy, 
Wilh'am  of  Normandy,  and  had  sent  him  timely  re- 
inforcements. But  their  progress  was  too  rapid  for 
speech,  and  whatever  might  be  his  curiosity,  he  had  to 
lie  passive  in  his  litter  and  allow  himself  to  be  borne 
whithersoever  his  rescuers  pleased. 

And  by  what  a  weird  and  desolate  pathway  did  they 
bear  him  ! 

Heading,  apparently,  for  the  very  heart  of  the  fen 
that  stretched  westward  as  far  as  eye  could  reach,  its 
level  surface  unbroken  by  tree  or  hill,  and  only  varied 
by  beds  of  tall  reeds  and  snake-like  pools  of  still,  dark 
water,  the  surfaces  of  which  were  scarcely  rippled  by 
the  gusty  breeze,  they  advanced  steadily  for  the  better 
part  of  an  hour. 

The  fitful  light  of  the  half  shrouded  moon  cast 
ghastly  gleams  upon  the  waving  plumes  of  the  flowering 
sedges  and  white  tufts  of  the  meadow-sweet,  whose 
strong  and  somewhat  sickly  perfume  mingled,  strangely 
luscious,  with  the  dank  odours  of  peat  and  decaying 
rushes  and  grasses.  Now  and  again  some  frightened 
bird  flew  screaming  from  its  roosting-place,  or  dusky 
water-rat  glided  hastily  into  thicker  cover,  or  plunged 
with  a  flop  into  the  water,  while  the  pipe  of  the  curlew, 
or  boom  of  the  bittern,  sounded  from  afar  ofl"  in  the 
melancholy  marshes.  The  loneliness  was  intense,  and 
seemed  but  accentuated  by  the  presence  of  bird  and 
beast. 


'  O  HIGH  AMBITION  LOWL  V  LAID  I '  199 

In  the  dimness  of  the  cloudy  night,  with  the  uncertain 
bursts  of  moonlight,  that  seemed  to  make  the  chaos  of 
scarce  divided  earth  and  water  but  more  difficult  to 
distinguish,  the  men  who  bore  the  earl  threaded  their 
way  through  the  bewildering  maze,  with  an  unerring 
celerity  and  absence  of  hesitation  that  proved  them  to 
be  no  strangers  to  its  mysterious  solitude. 

At  length  they  halted,  beside  a  channel  less  over- 
grown with  weeds  and  rushes  than  the  many  they  had 
passed,  and  which  was,  in  fact,  the  Great  Ouse  River. 

One  of  the  party  put  a  horn  to  his  lips  and  sounded  a 
couple  of  mots.  His  summons  was  answered  from  the 
water,  and  in  a  few  seconds  a  boat  impelled  by  eight 
sturdy  oarsmen  shot  forth  from  a  bend  in  the  river  and 
drew  to  the  bank.  The  earl  was  speedily  put  on  board, 
with  the  faithful  Grillonne  at  his  head,  and  his  bearers 
embarked,  some  with  him,  some  in  a  second  boat  which 
had  come  in  the  wake  of  the  first. 

De  Guader  confided  himself  utterly  to  the  safe 
keeping  of  his  jester,  and  the  rhythmic  sound  of  the  oars, 
which  he  believed  were  every  moment  bringing  him 
nearer  to  liberty,  soothed  him  inexpressibly.  He  fell 
into  a  drowsy  sleep  of  exhaustion,  never  really  losing 
consciousness,  but  devoid  of  all  impatience,  and  almost 
of  all  curiosity  as  to  whither  he  was  being  taken. 

But  the  splash  of  the  oars  ceased  at  length,  and  the 
keel  of  the  boat  grated  on  the  shore  of  a  small  island, 
raising  a  modest  crown  a  little  above  the  level  of  the 
surrounding  (en.  It  was  protected  by  an  earthwork 
somewhat  similar  in   construction   to  the   great   dykes 


200  '  O  HIGH  AMBITION  LOWL Y  LAID  / 

with  which  Cambridge  is  seamed,  the  Devil's  Dyke, 
Fleamdyke,  and  others,  and,  had  the  Hght  served,  the 
low  turrets  of  a  long,  rambling,  two-storied  house  might 
have  been  seen  behind  its  shelter. 

A  summons  was  given  by  a  few  mots  on  the  horn, 
and  in  answer  a  deep  voice  threw  a  challenge  across  the 
sullen  surface  of  the  waters, — 

'  Who  goes  there  ? ' 

'  St.  Nicholas  for  Guader  ! ' 

A  rattle  of  chains  and  hoarse  creaking  of  bolts  and 
hinges  followed,  and  a  heavy  gate  was  slowly  lifted, 
which  admitted  the  boats  into  an  inner  moat.  They 
glided  in  and  moored  their  vessels  at  a  small  landing 
stage  on  the  opposite  side,  the  gate  closing  instantly 
behind  them. 

As  they  did  so,  the  sentry  asked  anxiously,  in  a  low 
voice  and  in  the  Saxon  tongue,  'What  cheer?' 

'All's  well !'  was  the  answer. 

'  St.  P^admund  be  praised ! '  ejaculated  the  sentry 
fervently  ;  and  the  earl's  heart  leapt  with  a  thrill  of  joy 
and  gratitude  to  the  poor  unknown  soldier  who  cared 
about  his  safety,  so  infinitely  precious  had  the  humblest 
human  sympathy  become  to  him  since  those  dreadful 
hours  when  he  had  thought  himself  doomed  to  quit  the 
cheerful  earth  and  the  faces  of  his  fellow-men  for  ever- 
more ! 

Inside  the  enclosure  a  party  of  wild-looking  ceorls 
surrounded  them,  with  shaggy  locks  and  rude  jerkins  of 
sheepskin,  armed  with  pikes  and  staves  for  the  most 
part,  but  some  few  better  clad,  and  bearing  the  terrible 


•'  O  HIGH  AMBITION  LOWL  V  LAID  / '  201 

seax  ;  their  brawny  necks  half  hidden  by  their  unshorn 
beards,  which  hung  in  tow-coloured  elf-locks  round  their 
weather-beaten  and  scarred  faces.  Amongst  them  were 
one  or  two  tall  fellows,  dressed,  like  those  in  the  party  of 
rescuers  who  had  attracted  De  Guader's  attention,  in 
Danish  mode. 

This  much  he  gathered  by  the  fitful  moonlight  and 
the  feeble  light  of  lanterns  carried  by  the  men. 
Question  and  answer  followed  quick  between  his  bearers 
and  their  rough  colleagues,  but  he  could  comprehend 
little  of  what  they  said,  for  they  spoke  in  all  manner 
of  tongues  and  dialects. 

'Thou  hast  had  a  harsh  ride,  I  fear  me,  good  nunclc,' 
said  Grillonne,  bending  over  his  beloved  master  with 
tender  solicitude.  '  Gramcrc)- !  'Tis  a  God-forsaken 
hole  we  have  brought  thee  to  ;  but  beggars  must  not  be 
choosers,  and  let  us  hope  that  the  archbishop's  people 
will  keep  their  pious  noses  from  sniffing  thee  out  in  it ! 
Troth  !  if  they  venture  them  here,  I  parry,  some  of 
these  stout  carles  will  slit  them  for  them  parlous 
quick  !  ' 

'  Methinks  any  corner  of  the  earth  is  better  than 
being  quite  out  of  it,  (jrillonne,'  returned  the  carl,  with 
a  gentle  smile.  'I  am  not  like  to  be  critical;  but  in 
good  sooth  I  would  fain  know  the  title  of  m\'  host?' 

'  I  scarce  know  it  m)'self,  good  ni}'  lord,'  rci)lied  the 
jester.  "Tis  a  Saxon,  or  more  properly  Anglo-Danish 
thegn,  whose  son  went  shares  in  thy  escapade,  and  has 
got  a  maimed  foot  for  his  share  of  the  booty,  they  tell 
me.     The   father    and    son    have   had   a   price  on    their 


202  '  O  HIGH  AMBITION  LO  WL  V  LAID  I ' 

heads  since  Hereward  Leofricsson's  downfall,  and  have 
a  natural  fellow-feeling  for  thy  discomfiture,  sweet 
nuncle.' 

Meanwhile  they  had  reached  the  entrance  of  the 
house,  and  the  earl  was  borne  into  a  long  barnlike  hall, 
very  sparsely  furnitured,  with  a  table  running  almost 
from  one  end  of  it  to  the  other,  and  rude  settles  and 
stools  placed  against  it,  as  in  preparation  for  a  meal, 
At  one  end  was  an  archway  leading  into  another  apart- 
ment, which  seemed,  to  judge  by  the  heat  and  the 
savoury  odours,  the  noises  of  pots  and  kettles  and  other 
indications  which  came  from  it,  to  be  a  kitchen  ;  while 
at  the  other  end  was  a  cheerful  fire  of  peat,  beside  which 
sat  an  aged  warrior  wearing  the  Anglo-Danish  tunic 
and  cross-gartered  hose,  his  white  hair  flowing  back 
over  his  shoulders  and  his  grizzled  beard  growing  close 
up  his  cheeks,  so  that  it  seemed  almost  to  meet  the 
bushy  white  eyebrows  that  shaded  his  bright  blue  eyes. 
Flis  baldric  was  richly  worked  with  gold,  and  he  wore 
massive  gold  bracelets  on  his  arms. 

Beside  him  stood  a  broad-shouldered,  athletic  young 
man  in  similar  garb;  his  thick  fair  hair  surrounding  his 
head  like  a  lion's  mane,  and  his  long  moustaches  and 
golden  beard  showing  lighter  than  the  bronzed  skin  of  his 
cheeks  and  chest ;  his  eyes  as  bright  and  blue  as  those 
of  his  father,  and  his  neck  and  sinewy  arms  covered 
with  tattoo  marks.  But  the  linen  tunic  he  wore  was 
drabbled  with  mud  and  gore,  and  one  of  his  feet  was 
swathed  in  bandages,  through  which  the  crimson  stains 
would  force  their  way,  and  his  muscular  hand  grasped 


'  O  HIGH  A  MB  IT  ION  L  O IVL  Y  LAID  !'  203 

the  arm  of  his  father's  carved  oak  chair   to    ease    his 
weight  somewhat  from  the  wounded  foot. 

On  the  opposite  side  of  the  large  open  fireplace  sat  a 
monk  in  the  habit  of  the  Black  Friars,  and  near  by  a 
stately  lady,  wearing  the  headrail  and  flowing  robes 
which  had  been  the  fashion  in  the  time  of  the  Confessor; 
while  a  bevy  of  damsels  waited  behind  her,  looking  to- 
wards the  wounded  earl  with  curious  eyes. 

The  old  thegn  rose  as  the  bearers  brought  their 
noble  burden  forward,  advanced  to  the  litter,  and, 
bowing  with  great  dignity,  said  in  his  own  tongue, — 

'  By  the  Holy  Cross  !  my  heart  is  glad  to  see  thee 
safe  beneath  my  roof,  oh,  valorous  earl  !  Would  that 
Ealdred  Godwinsson  had  means  to  offer  fitting  hospit- 
ality to  the  son  of  Ralph  the  Staller,  in  whose  hand  his 
own  has  been  placed  and  under  whose  standard  he  has 
fought  in  many  a  hard  field  !  Alas  !  the  glory  of  his 
house  has  faded  !  Barely  can  he  save  his  last  days  from 
the  fury  of  his  foes  by  hiding  in  this  wilderness  of  the 
meres  !  But  to  such  as  he  possesses,  thrice  welcome, 
noble  earl !  Had  not  age  and  infirmity  clogged  his 
steps  as  securely  as  chains  of  iron,  he  had  sallied  forth 
to  thy  rescue  himself  Had  not  a  spear-thrust  in  the 
instep,  got  this  morn  while  fighting  in  thy  ranks, 
crippled  Leofric  his  son,  that  son  had  gone  forth  to  seek 
thee.'  Here  the  younger  man  bowed  deep!)-  in  token 
of  assent  antl  reverence.  '  It  boots  not!  His  followers 
have  been  true,  and  thou  art  here.' 

'  Brave  thegn,'  returned  De  Guader,  raising  himself 
as   far  as   possible  in    his   litter,  '  I  thank  thee  for  thy 


204  '  O  HIGH  A MBITION  LO  WL  V  LAID  .' 

fidelity   to  a  ruined  and    defeated    man  !      The   saints 
forefend  that  my  presence  bring  evil  to  thy  retreat ! ' 

'  Nay,'  answered  Ealdred,  '  had  those  who  would  harm 
us  the  wit  to  track  us,  we  had  perished  long  since.  But 
thou  art  sore  wounded  !  Berwine,  the  widow  of  mine 
eldest-born,  shall  leech  thy  hurts.' 

A  couch  was  prepared  in  a  recess  near  the  fireplace, 
and  the  earl  was  placed  thereon.  Cordials  and  delicate 
soups,  with  omelettes  of  plovers'  eggs,  were  brought 
to  tempt  his  appetite,  and  the  young  thegn's  widow 
examined  his  wounds,  paused  and  dressed  them  with 
soothing  unguents,  and  finally  bound  them  up  in  linen 
of  her  own  weaving,  and  with  the  greatest  tenderness 
and  skill. 

Meanwhile  the  stalwart  fellows  who  had  borne  the 
stricken  noble  so  far  upon  their  strong  shoulders, — no 
light  burden,  sheathed  as  he  was  in  all  his  mail ! — with 
Grillonne  and  others,  were  regaled  with  the  savoury 
messes  whose  odours  had  assailed  them  with  such 
enticing  welcome  through  the  kitchen  door  as  they 
entered,  and,  in  sooth,  they  had  a  uicnu  fit  for  a  king. 

Stewed  and  fried  eel,  pike  and  lampreys  in  pasties, 
roast  gossander,  curlew,  and  snipe ! — fare  fit  for  an 
epicure,  and  by  no  means  cavilled  at  by  the  hungry 
men  before  whom  it  was  served — add  thereto  good 
cider  and  ale. 

For  this  island  in  the  meres  was  the  home  of  in- 
numerable waldfowl,  and  fish  as  many  crowded  the 
waters  around  it.  '  Wild  swannes,  gossaiiders,  water- 
crows,    hemes,    hernshaws,    cranes,    curlewes,    mallard, 


'  O  HIGH  AMBITION  LO  WL  Y  LAID  ! '  205 

teele,  bytters,  knotts,  styntes,  godwytts,  widgeons, 
smeaths,  puffins,  and  many  sorts  of  gulls  ;  eels,  pike, 
pickerel,  perch,  roach,  barbel,  lampreys,  and  sometimes 
a  royal-fish'  (turbot  or  sturgeon?);  so  that,  as  the 
chronicler  relates  of  Hereward's  refuge  in  the  neigh- 
bouring Isle  of  Ely,  foemen  might  sit  blockading  the 
place  for  seven  years  without  '  making  one  hunter  cease 
to  set  his  nets  or  one  fowler  to  deceive  the  birds  with 
springe  and  snare.' 

In  this  asylum  we  will  leave  the  earl,  and  sec  how  it 
fares  with  Blauncheflour. 


CHAPTER    XVI. 

WIFE   OR  WIDOW? 

The  Castellan  of  Blauncheflour  swept  hastily  from 
the  chamber  where  she  had  held  council  with  the  two 
knights,  doubting  lest  her  power  of  self-control  should 
fail  her,  and  that  the  desperate  grief  which  was  gnawing 
at  her  heart  should  gain  the  upper  hand,  and  mar  the 
stately  boldness  of  mien  which  she  saw  affected  them 
not  a  little,  by  bringing  the  weak  tears  which  are 
accounted  a  woman's  privilege. 

She  remembered  bitterly  that  almost  the  last  day 
which  she  had  spent  with  her  dear  lord  had  been 
clouded  for  him  by  her  weeping,  and  she  felt  as  if  by 
maintaining  firmness  now  she  was  carrying  out  his 
wishes. 

'  I  vexed  him  with  my  tears,'  she  said  to  herself.  '  Ah  ! 
now  I  will  be  the  very  hero's  daughter  he  bade  me  to 
be.  I  will  be  bolder  than  his  mailed  retainers.  While 
I  can  get  one  soldier  to  fight  for  me,  one  warder 
to  pace  the  walls,  I  will  hold  his  castle  ready  to 
receive  him  ! ' 

By  such  brave  words  she  tried   to  stifle  the    awful 

206 


WIFE  OR  WIDOW f  207 

terror  that  assailed  her  secret  heart  that  the  tidings  of 
Stephen  le  Hareau  were  indeed  true. 

Leaving  the  room  hastily,  she  nearly  fell  over  the 
fair  figure  of  Eadgyth,  who  was  kneeling  on  the 
threshold. 

'Eadgyth!  what  dost  thou  here?  Is  this  obeying 
my  behests  ?  I  bade  thee  tend  the  wounded,  from 
whom  other  duties  called  me,' 

'  Pardon,  dear  Emma  !  I  feared  lest  thou  shouldst  need 
my  service.  I  have  not  forgotten  the  day  when  I  found 
thee  senseless  in  thy  chamber ;  and  these  news  be  so 
dire,' 

'  Faint  heart ! '  cried  Emma  contemptuously,  taking 
refuge  in  indignation,  '  Dost  thou  then  credit  the  wild 
stories  of  these  runaways?  How  but  by  telling  of  slain 
leader  and  ruined  cause  could  they  excuse  their  own 
cowardice  ?  The  cousin  of  Harold  Godwinsson  should 
despise  them  for  nodings  I ' 

Her  eyes  blazed  with  the  light  of  fierce  determination, 
as  she  hissed  out  the  word  which  in  the  ears  of  Saxon 
or  Dane  was  the  most  degrading  that  could  be  applied 
to  a  warrior. 

The  mild-naturcd  Eadgyth,  whose  courage  was  of 
the  moral  order,  and  with  whom  fortitude  and  fidelity 
were  greater  than  high  spirit,  gazed  wonderingh-  at  her 
friend.  She  had  seen  Emma  cry  over  a  fawn  the  dogs 
had  lacerated,  or  over  the  dead  body  of  a  pet  bird,  when 
her  own  eyes  had  been  tearless,  ant!  tliis  strange  strength 
of  Emma's  made  her  shiver,  for  she  fully  believed  that 
the  carl  was  slain. 


2o8  WIFE  OR  WIDOW? 

Emma  looked  in  her  startled  face  and  laughed. 
'  Tend  them,  bonnibell,  and  ease  the  pain  of  their 
wounds  ;  but  credit  them  not.  Let  my  lord  deal  with 
them  when  he  comes  back  at  the  head  of  a  victorious 
army.' 

Eadgyth,  like  the  knights,  thought  that  the  countess 
was  going  mad.  Perhaps  she  was  ;  but  her  madness 
saved  the  garrison. 

Yet,  to  say  truth,  her  high  spirit  quailed  when  she 
re-entered  the  spital.  The  draggled,  blood-stained, 
dejected  warriors  who  lay,  and  leaned,  and  stood 
around,  with  every  variety  of  wound  to  be  dressed, 
were  no  cheering  sight.  Nor,  when  she  saw  their 
pale,  stern  faces,  grave  with  defeat  and  haggard 
from  fatigue,  did  she  stigmatise  them  in  her 
heart,  as  she  had  stigmatised  them  in  words,  as 
cowards  —  nodings.  Her  woman's  heart  went  out 
in  sympathy  to  the  suffering  humanity  around  her. 
She  did  not  pause  to  settle  the  question  whether 
they  had  fled  prematurely  or  stood  by  their  leader — 
in  whom  was  all  her  joy — to  the  last  bitter  gasp, 
as  brave  men  should.  She  dared  not  investigate  too 
closely,  lest  they  should  convince  her  that  she  had 
wronged  them,  and  so  daunt  the  hope  that  was  her 
only  comfort. 

With  tireless  industry  she  busied  herself  in  the 
manual  labour  of  the  leech,  in  such  crude  forms  as 
the  medical  science  of  the  day  allowed.  How  rudi- 
mentary they  were  may  be  guessed  from  the  story 
told    us   by   old    Robert    of   Gloucester,    of  the    Duke 


IVJFE  OR  WJDOIV?  2og 

of  Austria  in  Coeur  de  Lion's  time,  some  fifty  years 
later,  a  patient  who  doubtless  had  at  his  command 
whatever  skill  the  times  afforded.  The  duke  fell 
from  his  palfrey  and  hurt  his  foot,  which  mortified, 
and  the  doctors  advised  him  that  his  only  hope  lay 
in  having  it  taken  off.  Nobody,  however,  could  be 
found  bold  enough  to  undertake  the  operation,  and 
the  poor  duke  at  last  held  a  keen  axe  with  his  own 
hands  upon  his  ankle,  and  bade  his  chamberlain  smite 
upon  it  with  all  his  strength,  the  foot  being  severed  at 
the  third  blow. 

Such  being  the  best  surgical  aid  that  a  royal  duke 
could  obtain,  it  may  be  imagined  that  little  could  be 
done  to  ease  the  pangs  of  humbler  men. 

A  stream  of  fugitives  came  straggling  in  before  the 
day  was  done,  and,  alas  !  all  told  the  same  tale.  They 
were  mostly  Bretons  or  Normans,  for  the  Saxons  and 
Anglo-Danes  who  had  followed  the  earl  sought  refuge, 
not  in  the  Norman  stronghold,  but  in  the  forest  retreats 
where  their  countrymen  had  already  found  shelter,  and 
in  the  fastnesses  of  wold  and  fen,  which  were  familiar 
to  their  steps. 

The  bride  of  a  month  before  tended  them  with 
feverish  assiduity,  refusing  rest  and  food,  dreading  that 
time  for  thought  should  force  her  to  yield  belief  to  the 
tidings  they  all  brought — that  she  was  a  widow. 

When  evening  came.  Sir  Alain  dc  Gourin  demanded 

another  audience,  at  which  he  appeared  alone,  averring 

that  Sir    Hoel    could    not    leave   the   direction    of  the 

defence  at  the  same  time  as  himself 

O 


2IO  WIFE  OR  WIDOW  .^ 

He  faced  the  countess  doggedly,  with  a  defiant  gleam 
in  his  bulging  blue  eyes  which  she  did  not  find  it 
pleasant  to  meet.  His  cheeks  were  more  purple  than 
ever,  and  it  seemed  to  Emma  that  his  red  moustache 
almost  quivered  with  flame,  while  his  brawny  figure  was 
adorned  with  an  unusual  display  of  finery,  the  flashing 
jewels  on  his  baldric  attracting  her  eyes  even  in  that 
moment  of  distress. 

He  urged  that  what  had  seemed  a  doubtful  rumour 
in  the  morning  had  become  certain  news  by  night, 
since  fugitive  after  fugitive  had  confirmed  the  tidings 
first  brought  by  Stephen  le  Hareau,  and  begged 
her  once  more  to  think  of  her  own  safety,  and  allow 
himself  and  his  trusty  Bretons  to  escort  her  to 
Bretagne. 

'  Is  it  but  to  repeat  to  mine  ears  the  idle  plaints  of 
these  runaways  that  thou  hast  summoned  me  to  solemn 
conclave,  good  knight?  My  answer  of  the  morning 
stands.' 

She  broke  into  a  laugh  that  was  low  and  silvery 
enough,  but  which  caused  even  the  thick-skinned 
mercenary  to  shiver,  and  she  would  have  swept  from 
the  room,  but,  recovering  himself,  De  Gourin  stepped 
forward,  and,  laying  his  mailed  hand  on  her  arm,  detained 
her. 

'  By  the  Rood  ! '  he  exclaimed,  '  thou  shalt  not  go  ! 
Thou  alone  in  all  this  castle  dost  refuse  to  believe  the 
inevitable.  I  tell  thee,  knights  of  my  following,  whose 
word  is  sacred  as  my  own,  saw  Ralph  de  Guader  struck 
down  by  the  mace  of  Odo  of  Bayeux  ;   none  could  live 


WIFE  OR  WIDOW?  211 

after  such  a  blow,  were  his  harness  sevenfold  thick ! 
Besides,  the  press  of  battle  was  upon  the  spot  where  he 
fell,  and  the  feet  of  the  horses  must  have  achieved  what 
Odo  began,  if  his  mace  completed  it  not.' 

Eadgyth,  who  attended  the  countess,  uttered  a  scream 
of  horror,  and  endeavoured  to  stop  his  speech.  '  Wouldst 
thou  kill  her?  '  she  cried. 

Emma  shook  herself  free  from  his  grasp,  and  faced 
him  with  flashing  eyes  of  scorn. 

'  By  the  mass,  noble  lady,  pardon  me  !  I  would  have 
spared  thee  these  rude  details,  but  perforce  I  must  have 
thee  comprehend,' 

'If  the  earl  indeed  be  perished,' said  Emma  bitterly, 
'  life  will  not  be  so  sweet  to  me  that  I  should  take  such 
care  to  save  it.  Save  thyself  and  thy  Bretons  if  thou 
wilt.  If  ye  go,  there  will  be  less  to  man  the  walls,  but 
fewer  mouths  to  feed.' 

The  last  words  were  uttered  with  a  careless  contempt 
that  was  absolutely  sublime,  and  the  blustering  mercen- 
ary no  longer  ventured  to  detain  her. 

*  Certes,  the  donzellc  is  mad  ! '  he  asserted,  with  a 
round  oath,  when  she  had  left  the  chamber,  for  her 
absolute  refusal  to  leave  Blaunchcflour  had  thrown  to 
the  winds  his  plan  for  becoming  her  second  husband, 
and  becoming  lord  of  her  fair  manors. 

Outside  the  chamber  door  Emma  turned  to  her  loving 
bower-maiden  like  a  creature  of  the  woods  at  bay. 
Eadgyth's  sympathy  was  more  dreadful  to  her  than  the 
Breton's  brutal  frankness.  '  I  would  be  alone,  Eadgyth. 
I  am  going  to  the  oratory,'  she  forced  her  white  lips  to 


212  WIFE  OR  WIDOW? 

murmur,  and  almost  fled  from  her  side  down  the 
circling  stairway. 

Eadgyth  followed  at  a  distance,  and,  when  Emma  had 
disappeared  within  the  sacred  portal,  threw  herself 
prostrate  at  the  threshold,  like  a  faithful  hound,  as  she 
had  thrown  herself  at  the  door  of  the  council-chamber 
in  the  morning. 

Emma,  alone  at  last,  knelt  before  the  shrine  of  the 
Virgin.  She  chose  that  rather  than  the  one  dedicated 
to  St.  Nicholas,  for  it  seemed  to  her  in  her  anguish  that 
her  husband's  patron  saint  had  forsaken  his  votaries  in 
their  distress. 

The  grief  she  had  so  long  held  at  bay  shook  her  from 
head  to  foot  with  a  long  quivering  sob  that  held  her 
speechless,  and  almost  stopped  her  breath.  She  stretched 
out  her  arms  in  mute  supplication  to  Heaven.  Scalding 
tears  formed  slowly  in  her  eyes,  and  rolled  one  by  one 
down  her  bloodless  cheeks. 

Then  a  fresh  gust  of  agony  shook  her  like  a  leaf. 
'  Ah,  Dieii  merci  ! '  she  moaned  ;  '  the  horses  !  the  horses  ! 
They  achieved  if  Odo  failed,  he  said  !  Oh,  Christ !  it 
cannot  be  I  That  dear  head  that  has  pillowed  on  my 
bosom  ! ' 

Quivering  and  shuddering,  she  sank  upon  the  cold 
flags  of  the  floor.  The  grey  light  of  morning  creeping 
through  the  narrow  oriel  found  her  still  there. 

'  Oh,  countess !  sweet  countess !  one  waits  without 
who  will  not  deliver  his  message  to  any  but  thee,  and 
/le  bears  the  earl's  signet !  ' 


WIFE  OR  WIDOW?  213 

Eadgyth  was  in  the  oratory,  bending  over  the 
stiffened  form  of  the  unhappy  Chatelaine  of  Blaunche- 
flour. 

Emma  passed  her  hands  across  her  brow  in  blank 
bewilderment,  and  Eadgyth  cried  to  her  again. 

*  Oh,  Heaven  be  praised  1'  cried  Emma,  a  great  light 
of  joy  springing  into  her  eyes ;  and,  rising  from  her 
knees,  'Where  is  he?  where  is  he?'  she  asked.  'Take 
me  to  him  without  delay.  What  manner  of  man  is  this 
whose  advent  doth  so  raise  my  hopes  ?  The  earl's 
signet,  sayest  thou  ? ' 

'  He  wears  a  Danish  helm,  and  looks  as  if  he  had 
travelled  over  land  and  through  water,'  said  Eadgyth. 
'  Our  Lady  and  good  St.  Nicholas  grant  that  our  hopes 
be  well  founded  ! ' 

'  Eetch  me  my  golden  tore,  which  was  my  wedding 
gift  from  the  false  Waltheof,'  said  Emma ;  '  I  will 
meet  this  Dane  as  one  who  knows  somewhat  of  his 
race.' 

She  went  to  her  chamber  to  wash  away  the  signs 
of  her  night's  vigil  from  her  cheeks,  and,  when  her 
hasty  toilette  was  made,  ICadgyth  saw  with  sur- 
prise the  change  in  her :  hope  had  brought  back 
the  bloom  to  her  cheek  and  the  clasticit}'  to  her 
step,  and  she  looked  well  fit  to  be  the  bride  of 
one  who  aspired  to  the  third  of  a  kingdom  for  his 
earldom. 

She  swept  from  the  lodge  to  the  great  tower,  and 
entered  the  council-chamber,  where  Sir  Hocl  and  Sir 
Alain  awaited  her,  curious  enough  to  know  the  contents 


214  WIFE  OR  IVWOIV? 

of  the  missive  guarded  by  the  fair-haired,  long-Hmbed 
Dane  with  such  jealous  care,  Sir  Alain  eyeing  him 
as  he  stood  before  them  with  no  very  gracious 
countenance. 

When  Emma  came  into  the  room,  the  Dane 
saluted  her  profoundly,  his  tow-coloured  locks  almost 
touching  his  knee,  and  his  formidable  double-edged 
axe  rattling  on  the  floor  as  he  bent  ;  then  he  put 
into  the  hands  of  the  countess  a  packet  tied  with  a 
slender  silken  cord. 

Emma  started  with  joy,  for  her  quick  eyes  noted  the 
many  joins  in  that  silken  cord,  and  recognised  it  as 
composed  of  the  fringe  with  which  Ralph's  surcoat  had 
been  decked. 

The  Dane  then  drew  from  his  finger  a  ring,  and 
handed  it  to  her,  and,  truly  enough,  it  was  De  Guader's 
signet. 

Emma's  fingers  trembled  so  violently  that  she  could 
scarce  read  the  superscripture,  endorsed  with  a  clerkly 
scroll, — 

'  To  the  fair  hands  of  Emma  de  Guader, 

Castellan   of  our  Castell   of  Blauncheflour  in 
Norowic' 

She  drew  the  little  viisericorde  at  her  girdle  and  severed 
the  silk. 

'Bid  the  chaplain  hither,'  she  said,  for  in  truth  she 
had  little  learning,  and  her  literary  attainments  did  not 
extend  far  beyond  the  reading  of  her  own  name  ;  not- 
withstanding which,   her   eyes   questioned    eagerly  the 


U7FE  OR  U'WOIV?  215 

fairly  illumined  page  before  her,  which  was  the  work  of 
the  monk  who  has  been  mentioned  as  sitting  by  the 
hearth  of  Ealdred  Godwinsson  in  his  Fenland  refuge,  for 
the  earl's  clerkly  skill  was  little  greater  than  that  of  his 
wife. 

Impatiently  she  awaited  the  coming  of  the  chaplain, 
and,  when  he  came,  thrust  the  cherished  parchment  into 
his  hand,  and  followed  his  reading,  word  by  word,  with 
hungry  avidity. 

*  Fair  and  dear  Lady  and  Countess,'  said  the  missive, 
'  ill  news  has  thy  unfortunate  knight  wherewith  to  vex 
thine  heart.  The  battle  went  against  mc.  By  little 
less  than  a  miracle  was  my  life,  dear  for  thy  sweet  sake, 
preserved  to  me.  A  long  story  which  some  day  I  yet 
hope  to  relate  to  thee.  I  am  sore  wounded,  but  not 
dangerously ' — 

'The  holy  saints  be  praised!'  ejaculated  Sir  Hoel 
fervently. 

'Ay! — the  holy  saints  be  praised,' echoed  Sir  Alain, 
with  somewhat  halting  zeal,  for  this  resuscitated  earl 
put  an  end  to  all  his  schemes. 

'Therefore,'  resumed  the  chaplain,  continuing  his 
reading,  'vex  not  thyself  with  fears.  But  for  my 
wounds  only,  1  had  been  with  thee  by  now,  but  could 
not  mount  steed  or  liacqiieiiee.  The  messenger  will 
tell  thee  my  retreat,  and  the  plan  by  which  I  }'ct  hope 
to  prevail,  and  to  win  fame  for  thee.  Defend  my  Castell 
of  Blauncheflour,  sweet  my  Castellan,  and,  by  the  aid 
of  good  St.  Nicholas,  I  will  come  back  to  thee  at  the 
head  of  such  an  host  as  will  put  all  our  foes  to  rout.     I 


2i6  WIFE  OR  WIDOW? 

count  the  daies   till    I    see   thee   again.     The    Blessed 
Virgin  have  thee  in  her  keeping. 

'  These  from  thy  leal  and  loving  husband, 

'  Ralph  de  Guader  and  Montfort, 
'  Earl  of  Norfolk  and  Suffolk.' 

The  missive  was  signed  by  the  earl's  own  hand,  and 
sealed  with  his  wedding  ring,  on  which  was  graven  the 
cognisance  of  Hereford. 

'Ah,  fair  sirs,'  cried  Emma  exultingly,  looking,  how- 
ever, at  Sir  Alain,  and  with  contemptuous  defiance  in 
her  flashing  eyes,  'ye  see  the  instinct  of  the  true  wife 
was  more  trustworthy  than  the  eye-witness  of  belted 
knights !  Let  us  charitably  suppose  that  their  poor 
heads  were  somewhat  flustered  with  the  hurly-burly  of 
battle.  Methinks  they  were  over  quick  to  believe  their 
leader  slain.' 

Then,  turning  to  the  messenger,  she  questioned  him 
regarding  the  battle  and  the  retreat,  and  the  manner 
of  the  earl's  escape  ;  and  heard  the  story  we  already 
know  of  Grillonne's  ready  wit,  and  the  refuge  in  the 
fens. 

The  Dane  was  one  of  those  who  had  helped  to  carry 
the  wounded  earl,  and  had  been  chosen  as  a  messenger 
because  he  was  trustworthy,  renowned  as  a  swift  runner, 
and  could  carry  messages  of  importance  to  such  Danish 
seamen  as  might  be  with  their  vessels  at  Norwich  for 
trading  purposes,  besides  his  message  to  the  countess. 
Dependence  had  not  been  placed  on  him  alone  ;  other 
messengers  had  been  despatched  from  the  Fenland  camp. 


IVIFE  OR  IVJDOli'?  217 

in  case  he  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  enemy,  but  he  had 
outstripped  his  competitors. 

He  said  that  the  earl  had  desired  to  return  to  Norwich, 
but  had  been  overpersuaded  by  those  about  him  that  it 
would  be  a  wiser  course  to  take  ship  at  Wells  by  the 
sea,  which  he  could  do  privily  by  aid  of  Ealdred 
Godwinsson,  and  those  over  whom  the  thegn  had 
influence.  So  it  was  agreed  that  the  earl  should  make 
sail  for  Denmark,  where,  without  doubt,  he  would  be 
nobly  welcomed  by  King  Swcyn,  who  had  already 
promised  him  men  and  vessels.  From  thence  he  would 
go  with  all  speed  to  Bretagne,  and  arm  his  retainers, 
and  gather  all  help  he  might  among  the  Breton  nobles  ; 
and  with  the  host  thus  gathered  would  haste  to  the 
relief  of  Blauncheflour,  which  would  thus  be  rendered 
sure  and  certain. 

The  countess  listened  with  kindling  eyes  and  glowing 
cheeks. 

*  A  device  worthy  of  a  hero  ! '  she  exclaimed.  '  Let 
the  garrison  be  summoned  to  the  courtyard  of  the 
castle,  and  I  will  tell  them  these  brave  news.  I  would 
they  should  receive  them  from  mine  own  lips.  See 
also  that  this  worthy  messenger  enjoys  all  hospitality 
the  castle  may  afford.' 

She  unfastened  a  golden  collar  from  her  neck,  and 
added  it  to  the  many  bracelets  which  already  glittered 
upon  the  Dane's  muscular  arms. 

The  warrior  thanked  her  earnestl}',  witli  the  frank 
reverence  which  characterised  the  wild  sea-kings  in  their 
behaviour  to  women. 


2i8  WIFE  OR  WIDOW? 

Half-an-hour  later,  the  countess,  arrayed  in  her  richest 
robes,  with  steel -cap  on  her  head,  and  her  gorget 
glistening  in  the  morning  sun  as  it  rose  and  fell  with 
the  swift  heaving  of  her  bosom,  stood  at  the  great  east 
portal,  with  the  Danish  messenger  at  her  side,  and 
looked  down  upon  the  eager  faces  of  the  hastily 
assembled  garrison. 

A  rumour  had  gone  forth  that  the  earl  had  escaped, 
and  would  yet  return  in  triumph,  and  a  glow  of  excite- 
ment lighted  every  eye.  As  Emma  saw  the  stalwart 
forms  and  the  strong  determined  countenances  before 
her,  a  thrill  of  pride  swelled  her  heart  at  the  thought 
that  her  warrior  husband  should  have  given  her  command 
over  them.  The  spirit  of  William  Fitzosbern  lived 
again  in  the  breast  of  his  daughter.  '  I  will  be  worthy 
of  the  honour  that  Ralph's  choice  bestowed  on  me,'  she 
thought.  'If  aught  a  woman  can  say  or  do  may 
inspire  men  to  gallant  deeds,  these  men  shall  not  fail 
their  lord.' 

Emotion  brought  high  words  to  her  lips  and  fire  to 
her  eyes.  Her  heart  verily  shouted  with  delight  for  the 
joyful  message  which  she  had  to  deliver.  '  Brave  knights 
and  soldiers  ! '  she  cried,  and  her  voice  rang  through  the 
fresh  morning  air  like  the  clang  of  a  silver  trumpet, 
'glad  news  have  I  for  loyal  ears.  Earl  Ralph  yet  lives! 
See,  this  missive  is  signed  by  his  own  noble  hand ! 
His  signet  blazes  on  my  finger!' 

She  held  the  scroll  aloft  in  her  hands,  and  the  sun- 
shine flashed  on  the  ring. 

'  A  Guader  !  a  Guader  ! '  shouted  the  assembled  host ; 


WIFE  OR  WIDOW?  219 

and  arms  were  raised  and  weapons  clashed,  while  some 
three  hundred  stout  throats  echoed  the  shout,  '  St. 
Nicholas  for  Guader  ! ' 

'Yesterday  your  countess  and  her  counsellors  were 
sore  distressed,'  Emma  went  on  ;  'for,  as  ye  know,  the 
unfortunate  squire,  Stephen  Ic  Hareau,  and  those  who 
followed  him,  believed  that  the  earl  was  slain  ;  but  we 
would  not  vex  ye  with  our  grief  till  doubt  was  changed 
into  certainty.  Doubt  is  changed  into  certainty  ; — but  a 
certainty  of  life,  not  death  ! ' 

A  roar  of  cheers  rent  the  air  again. 

'  Yes,  your  lord  lives  ! '  cried  Emma.  'His  first  field 
is  lost,  but  it  will  not  be  his  last !  He  is  wounded, 
sorely,  but  not  dangerously.  See !  so  the  letter  says ! 
His  way  is  open  to  Denmark.  This  gallant  Dane  has 
borne  his  message  across  field  and  over  flood,  faith- 
fully, as  he  helped  to  carry  the  earl  himself  from  the 
battlefield.' 

She  turned  to  the  messenger  beside  her,  who  clashed 
his  great  axe  upon  his  round  wooden  shield,  w  ith  its 
strange  embossing  of  iron  nails,  and  shouted  '  Waes 
hael ! ' 

Then  Emma  told  again  the  story  of  the  earl's  rescue, 
though  she  did  not  reveal  his  hiding-place,  lest  there 
should  be  traitors  in  the  camp,  and  how  he  intended  to 
take  ship  for  Denmark  to  ask  aid  of  King  Sweyn,  '  wlio,' 
she  said, 'has  already  promised  it.  Then  the  carl  will 
seek  his  own  fair  lands  in  Bretagne,  and  he  will  call  his 
vassals  to  his  standard,  and  come  across  the  sea  at  the 
head  of  a  great  host  to  relieve  his  faithful  garrison  in 


220  WIFE  OR  WIDOW? 

Blauncheflour.  Is  any  man  so  mean  of  heart  that  he 
will  not  vow  to  good  St.  Nicholas  to  do  his  best  to 
keep  the  castle  to  that  hour?  If  so,  let  him  declare 
himself  a  noding,  and  quit  the  company  of  gallant 
men  ! ' 

'  Not  one !  Not  one ! '  rang  round  the  castle  yard, 
and  echoed  back  from  the  high  stone  tower  of  the  keep, 
reverberating  in  tumultuous  thunder  from  base  to 
summit. 

Then  old  Sir  Hoel  de  St.  Brice  took  off  his  plumed 
barret,  and  waved  it  in  the  air,  where  he  stood 
behind  his  lady,  his  eyes  humid  and  his  lips  quivering, 
as  he  echoed,  *  Not  one  ! ' 

Sir  Alain  de  Gourin,  listening  with  a  strange  expres- 
sion of  satirical  disdain  on  his  florid  countenance,  rattled 
his  sword  from  its  sheath  and  waved  it  in  the  air, 
where  he  stood  behind  his  lady,  and  shouted  with  a 
lusty  voice,  '  Not  one  ! ' 

'  I  thank  ye,  friends!'  cried  the  countess.  'To  your 
strong  arms  and  your  loyal  hearts  I  commit  my 
fate  and  that  of  my  lord.  St.  Nicholas  give  ye 
fortitude ! ' 

Turning  to  a  page  who  stood  beside  her  with  a  silver 
tray,  she  took  a  velvet  purse  from  it,  and  scattered  broad 
pieces  amongst  the  soldiery. 

'  A  largesse  !  a  largesse  ! '  they  cried  ;  and  all  was  joy 
and  hilarity. 

'  Ye  shall  taste  a  vintage  better  than  ever  grew  even 
in  the  vineyards  of  Hereford  or  Kent,'  cried  the  countess  ; 
and  she  gave  orders  to  the  steward  to  broach  a  cask  of 


WIFE  OR  WIDOW?  221 

French  wine  which  had  been  amongst  her  brother's  gifts 
at  the  bride-ale  ;  an  order  which  called  forth  a  fresh 
burst  of  applause. 

'  Drink  it/  cried   Emma,  '  to  the  safe  return  of  your 
lord ! ' 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

HOW   RALPH   CAME   HOME. 

'  Sweet  nuncle,  methinks  some  of  thy  wits  adhered 
to  my  cap,  and  that,  when  I  put  the  same  upon  thy 
noble  skull,  they  found  an  entrance  into  it  by  that 
crack  the  worshipful  bishop's  mace  rove  therein,  else 
thou  hadst  never  assayed  this  mad  journey !  Why, 
thou  hast  scarce  taken  a  step  without  giving  a 
groan.' 

'  Have  I  been  so  weak,  Grillonne  ?  '  Earl  Ralph  asked, 
a  faint  smile  brightening  his  pale,  worn  face. 

He  was  on  horseback,  but  rode  at  a  foot's  pace,  and 
bent  over  the  neck  of  his  Jiacquence  like  an  aged  and 
decrepit  man.  He  was  dressed  in  a  loose  flowing 
Saxon  blouse,  and  had  not  a  link  of  mail  on  his  person 
from  top  to  toe.  On  his  left  rode  Grillonne,  who  strove 
to  cheer  him  with  loving  banter ;  on  his  right  the  young 
Anglo-Dane,  Leofric  Ealdredsson,  the  son  of  his  late 
host  in  the  Fenland  refuge  ;  a  little  behind  came  a  small 
band  of  men-at-arms,  a  squire  leading  Ralph's  Spanish 
destrier,  and  a  mule  bearing  the  earl's  harness,  making 
some  score  in  all. 

222 


HO IV  RALPH  CAME  HOME.  223 

'  In  good  sooth,'  continued  the  earl,  '  it  hath  not 
seemed  to  me  that  my  path  was  strewn  with  rose-leaves, 
but  only  with  the  thorns  stripped  bare  of  flowers.  Yet 
would  I  go  through  it  seven  times  over  to  see  my  lady's 
face  again.' 

'  Well-a-day,  nuncle !  and  a  pretty  galliard  thou  art, 
forsooth,  to  figure  before  a  gracious  dame,  with  thy  hollow 
cheeks  and  thy  hawk's  eyes  glaring  out  of  caverns  deep 
eno'  for  pixies  to  bide  in,'  replied  the  privileged  jester. 
'  Cogs  bones !  thou  hadst  done  better  to  go  to  Den- 
mark first  as  thou  didst  intend,  there  to  have  picked 
up  a  few  stout  followers  and  a  little  flesh  to  cover  thy 
worn  framework  withal.  The  women  ever  love  the  signs 
of  power.' 

A  jealous  pang  flushed  the  earl's  gaunt  face  with  a 
faint  hue  of  red.  What  if  the  fool  spoke  truth,  and 
Emma  should  turn  from  him  in  his  defeat,  and  embitter 
his  humiliation  by  fresh  reproaches?  She  had  sent  him 
forth  with  a  doubting  heart,  scarce  wishing  him  success, 
in  that  he  fought  against  her  kinsman  and  suzerain, 
William  of  Normandy.  All  his  feudal  pomp  and  glory, 
at  the  head  of  the  eager  army  he  then  led  to  battle,  had 
failed  to  move  the  bosom  of  the  daughter  of  William 
Fitzosbern,  who,  young  as  she  was,  had  seen  many  a  fair 
host  go  forth  with  streaming  pennons  and  noisy  clarions. 
How,  then,  would  she  greet  the  weary,  wounded  wight 
who  crept  back  to  his  castle  like  a  thief  in  the  night,  with 
a  poor  remnant  of  faithful  followers  in  little  better  plight 
than  himself? 

Truth    is    seldom    palatable  to    men   in    high    places, 


224  I/O  IV  RALPH  CAME  HOME. 

and    the    jester's    light   words    had    struck    home   too 
surely. 

'  Thou  presumest,  Sir  Fool  ! '  quoth  the  earl  sharply. 
'  Thine  office  doth  not  establish  thee  a  critic  of  mine 
actions ! ' 

'Mercy,  sweet  nuncle!  I  cry  you  mercy!  A  fool's 
words  count  for  nothing  ! '  cried  Grillonne,  looking  into 
his  lord's  face  with  so  much  love  in  his  clear,  keen  eyes, 
that  De  Guader  instantly  forgave  him. 

'  Thou  art  the  best  friend  I  have,  Grillonne  ! '  he  said 
impulsively. 

'  Nay,  there  thou  dost  wrong  to  a  thousand  stout 
hearts,  good  my  lord ! '  answered  the  jester,  '  noble 
Leofric  there  amongst  the  number.  But  see,  thy  toils 
are  well-nigh  ended.  Yonder  rise  the  white  walls  of 
Norwich  Castle.' 

'  St.  Nicholas  be  praised !'  exclaimed  the  earl  fervently. 
*  Right  glad  shall  I  be  to  shelter  my  aching  head  within 
the  towers.  The  next  bosquet  shall  serve  me  for 
tiring-room.  I  will  show  myself  in  harness  as  befits  a 
knight' 

Some  two  hours  later,  the  warders  at  the  great  gate  of 
Castle  Blauncheflour  saw  a  small  troop  of  horsemen 
approaching  the  portal  at  a  foot-pace,  amongst  them  a 
knight  in  mail,  but  without  cognisance,  or  surcoat,  or 
shield,  his  countenance  covered  by  his  large  round 
helmet,  and,  riding  beside  him,  a  motley-coated  jester, 
whose  well-known  visage  caused  a  thrill  of  excitement 
amongst  the  guards,  greater  than  the  general  appearance 
of  the  group  ;    for  many  a   similar  one  had  demanded 


HO W  RA LPH  CA ME  HOME.  iit^ 

and  received  admittance  within  the  castle  during  the 
preceding  days,  since  Stephen  le  Hareau  had  pioneered 
the  fugitives. 

This  party  had  little  difficulty  in  gaining  entrance,  for 
the  faces  of  the  men-at-arms  composing  it  were  all 
more  or  less  familiar  to  the  warders  ;  and,  after  a  short 
parley,  the  portcullis  was  raised  and  the  drawbridge 
lowered  to  admit  of  their  passage  into  the  courtyard  of 
the  castle. 

The  news  that  the  earl's  jester  had  returned  spread 
like  wildfire  through  the  garrison,  with  the  mysterious 
celerity  that  sometimes  makes  it  seem  as  if  intelligence 
was  circulated  by  magic. 

13cfore  the  new-comers  had  dismounted  from  their 
horses,  the  countess,  who  was  passing  from  the  chapel  to 
the  spital,  heard  the  rumour,  and  came  forth  into  the 
courtyard  to  ascertain  if  it  indeed  were  true. 

Sir  Alain  de  Gourin,  who  had  been  overlooking  some 
target  practice  amongst  the  archers  in  the  tilt-yard,  came 
also  to  receive  and  examine  the  fugitives. 

Seeing  the  countess  and  the  ladies  who  had  followed 
her,  glad  that  duty  gave  them  the  opportunity  to  satisfy 
their  own  curiosity,  he  louted  low,  and  took  his  place 
beside  them. 

Archers  and  soldiers  of  various  arms  from  the  guard- 
room, servants  and  others,  had  swarmed  from  all  quarters, 
and  the  courtyard  was  well-nigh  full  of  animated  faces. 

One  new-comer  after  another  was  recognised,  and.  so 
to  speak,  '  passed  '  by  De  Gourin,  and  it  came  to  the  turn 
of  the  hclmeted  knight  to  declare  himself — most  of  the 


226  HOW  RALPH  CAME  HOME. 

Others  wore  round  steel-caps  with  a  nasal,  which  left  the 
features  visible. 

He  doffed  his  steel  headpiece  silently,  and  looked 
around  upon  the  throng.  The  gaunt,  pale  face  woke 
no  instant  response  from  the  many  onlookers,  but  the 
countess  sprang  forward  with  outstretched  arms  to  his 
saddle-bow. 

'  My  lord  ! '  she  cried.  '  Soldiers  !  do  you  not  know 
your  earl  ? ' 

'  A  Guader  !  a  Guader  ! ' 

The  cry  resounded  in  the  court  with  vigour  even  sur- 
passing that  of  a  few  days  before,  when  their  Castellan's 
eloquence  had  moved  them  so  deeply. 

Ralph  de  Guader  caught  his  wife's  outstretched  arms 
in  his  own,  and  looked  down  into  the  fair  face  he  had 
feared  never  to  see  again  ;  and  then — not  the  gentle 
lady,  but  the  mailed  warrior  swooned. 

Worn  out  with  the  terrible  fatigues  he  had  undergone, 
while  yet  unhealed  of  his  wounds,  the  earl  reeled  in  his 
saddle,  and  would  have  fallen,  if  the  tender  arms  of  his 
wife  had  not  caught  him  in  their  clasp. 

His  head  sank  on  Emma's  shoulder.  The  fiery  Oliver 
turned  his  intelligent  head  and  caressed  her  arm  softly 
with  his  velvet  nose,  but  stood  without  moving  a  limb, 
gazing  at  her  with  his  full,  bright  eyes.  He  seemed  to 
understand.  Had  he  moved,  the  countess  would  have 
fared  ill. 

Emma  was  quickly  eased  of  her  beloved  burden  by 
the  retainers  around,  and  the  insensible  earl  was  borne 
within  the  sheltering  walls  of  the  keep,  and  laid  upon  his 


HOIV  RALPH  CAME  HOME.  227 

own  broidered,  carved  oak  bed,  in  his  own  spacious  and 
luxurious  room. 

Ah !  how  Emma  wept  and  prayed  and  joyed  over 
him,  and  laughed  lowly  for  delight  that  in  very  truth 
she  had  her  warrior  once  more. 

How  she  burnt  sweet  essences,  and  bathed  his  lips 
with  perfumed  waters,  and  shuddered  at  the  print  of 
Odo's  mace  that  still  marked  his  brow  with  a  black  and 
sullen  scar. 

Ralph,  opening  his  steel-grey  eyes  upon  that  eager 
face,  lost  all  fear  lest  his  gauntness  and  humiliation  and 
defeat  should  lessen  wifely  love. 

'  Sweetheart ! '  he  sighed.  '  Sweetheart !  God  be 
praised  that  I  see  thee  again  ! '  The  memory  of  his 
desolation  on  the  battlefield  came  over  him  with  resist- 
less force.  His  breast  heaved  with  a  mighty  sob  as  he 
took  his  wife's  hands  again  in  his  own  and  pressed  them 
to  his  lips. 

They  brought  me  news  of  thy  death,  Ralph.  ]^ut  I 
knew  better,'  whispered  Emma,  as  she  bent  over  him, 
her  quick  tears  falling  on  his  face.  '  1  knew  better ! 
Thou  couldst  not  have  died  but  I  had  known  it.  My 
heart  had  been  rent  in  twain.' 

Then  Ralph  told  her  the  history  of  his  struggle,  and 
of  the  long  dreadful  hours  when  he  lay  'twixt  life  and 
death  upon  the  field  ;  and  how  Grillonne  had  schemed 
and  saved  him  ;  and  of  the  refuge  in  the  Eens.  A 
murmured  story,  told  in  a  voice  faint  and  weak  with 
suffering,  and  received  with  many  an  ejaculation  of 
sympathy  and  love. 


228  HOW  RALPH  CAME  HOME. 

'  I  had  planned  to  steal  away  privily  by  Wells  on  the 
sea,  and  there  take  ship  for  Denmark,'  De  Guader  said. 
'  But,  sweetheart,  the  thought  of  thee  was  to  me  as  the 
thought  of  water  to  the  pilgrim  in  the  desert.  Thee  I 
must  see,  or  perish  for  longing.  And  I  see  thee.'  He 
drew  her  to  him  and  feasted  his  eyes  on  her  face, 

'  And  for  that  thou  didst  confront  danger  and  difficulty 
and  the  pain  of  thy  sore  wounds?'  said  Emma  proudly. 

'  In  sooth  the  wounds  were  sore,  but  of  danger  there 
was  little,'  answered  the  earl.  Then  he  sprang  up  from 
the  couch  into  a  sitting  posture  with  a  suddenness  that 
startled  his  gentle  leech.  'They  deem  me  crushed,' he 
said.  '  So  flushed  are  they  by  their  victory  that  they 
are  careless  to  pursue  it  further.  I  found  no  trace  of 
their  troops  as  I  dragged  wearily  to  Norwich.  They 
have  gone  west,  I  deem  it,  to  deal  with  thy  brother.' 

'  Alas,  my  poor  Roger  !  I  would  we  had  news  of  him,' 
said  the  countess,  her  face  drawn  with  pain.  De  Guader 
caught  the  change  in  her  face  with  jealous  quickness. 
The  old  haunting  fear  came  back  lest  she  should  scorn 
the  broken  man. 

*  Emma,  my  defeat  is  dire !  Dost  thou  credit  how  I 
have  come  back  to  thee, — hiding  behind  bush  and 
briar,  beaten,  poverty-stricken,  all  but  alone?  I,  who 
left  thee  at  the  head  of  a  noble  army,  now  scattered  like 
chaff  before  the  winds  !     Dost  thou  not  spurn  me?  ' 

The  daughter  of  William  Fitzosbern  looked  in  the 
face  of  the  man  she  had  chosen  for  richer,  for  poorer, 
for  better,  for  worse. 

'  My  knight,'  she  said,  '  hadst  thou  come  maimed  of 


HO  IV  RALPH  CAME  HOME.  229 

a  hand  and  foot,  with  thy  visage  marred  for  ever  and  a 
day  by  the  cruel  daggers  of  thy  foes,  as  hath  happened 
to  thy  favourite  squire,  Stephen  le  Hareau,  I  had  but 
loved  thee  the  better.' 

*  By  the  Holy  Rood  !  has  Stephen  le  Hareau  been 
so  foully  entreated  ? ' 

'Alack,  yes!  Moreover,  he  bore  a  message  from 
the  king's  men,  that  every  prisoner,  of  whatever  rank 
and  whatever  nation,  they  might  take  in  this  struggle, 
should  lose  his  right  foot.' 

The  earl  raised  himself  from  the  couch  and  smote  his 
knee  with  his  balled  fist. 

'  By  the  bones  of  St.  Nicholas,  I  will  avenge  them  ! 
I  will  yet  prevail.'  He  turned  to  Emma,  fiercely  seizing 
her  hands  again  in  his,  this  time  with  no  very  tender 
grip.  '  Hast  thou  courage  ?  Wilt  thou  help  me  now 
in  my  sore  need,  or  is  thine  heart  half  with  William  ? 
Say  me  sooth  ! ' 

'  It  is  with  thee  ! — all  with  thee  ! ' 

'God  bless  thee  for  that  answer!'  He  passed  his 
hand  across  his  eyes,  and  then  held  his  brow  as  if  in 
pain.  '  That  accursed  shaveling's  mace  !  Sith  he  cracked 
my  poor  head  with  it,  whenever  I  tr)-  to  think  I  get  a 
pang  instead  of  a  notion.' 

'  Strive  not  to  think,  mine  own.  Rest  awhile.  Where 
shouldst  thou  rest  if  not  here  in  thine  home,  or  when,  if 
not  after  dire  fatigue  ? ' 

'  No,  Emma !  no  rest  for  me  till  I  have  retrieved 
mine  honour!  Stephen  Ic  Hareau,  thou  saidest?  He 
fought  like  a  I'aladin  beside  me.     The  smartest  squire 


230  HOW  RALPH  CAME  HOME. 

in  my  following,  and  the  best  born.  I  so  loved  the  lad 
that  I  would  have  had  him  squire  to  mine  own  body, 
but  that  Sir  Guy  de  Landerneau  was  as  a  father  to  him, 
and  had  formed  him  in  all  fitting  a  man-at-arms.  Sir 
Guy  dead  too  !  Yet  death  is  but  the  soldier's  portion, 
it  irks  me  not.  'Tis  that  the  fiends  should  mutilate  one 
of  Le  Hareau's  gentle  blood.  It  beggars  credence ! 
Their  own  leader  is  of  such  proud  lineage.     Ha,  ha  ! ' 

Emma  had  moved  softly  to  his  side,  and  had  enlaced 
her  slender  fingers  round  his  mailed  arm,  striving  to 
soothe  him  with  mute  sympathy. 

'  Seest  thou  not  the  menace  in  the  insult,  Emma?' 
They  spare  not  rank.  Had  I  been  taken,  my  fate  had 
been  even  as  Le  Hareau's.' 

Emma  shuddered,  recalling  Le  Hareau's  awful  face  as 
she  had  seen  it  on  the  day  of  his  return,  '  It  bears  not 
to  think  of,'  she  said. 

'  Sweet,  I  must  go  forth !  I  must  seek  Sweyn 
Ulfsson  of  Denmark  in  mine  own  person  ;  he  dallies  with 
my  messengers.  I  must  go  to  him  and  demand  fulfil- 
ment of  his  pledges.  I  must  go  to  Wader  and  Montfort 
and  assemble  my  vassalage.  Hast  thou  courage  to 
hold  Blauncheflour  till  my  return  ? ' 

'  I  have  courage  for  aught  that  profits  thee.' 

Ralph  gazed  in  her  face,  his  eyes  aHame  with  joyous 
pride.  He  took  her  fair  cheeks  between  his  palms,  and 
bent  down  and  kissed  her  brow  and  lips. 

'  Methinks  there  is  but  little  risk,  my  Falcon ! '  he 
said.  '  They  cannot  turn  from  west  to  east,  as  the  sun 
does,  in  a  night.     That  gives  me_time.     They  will  scarce 


HO  IV  RALPH  CAME  HOME.  231 

attempt  Blaunchcflour  and  I  not  in  it.  If  they  do,  it  is 
impregnable.  Ere  six  weeks  I  shall  relieve  thee  with  a 
fair  force  at  my  back.' 

Emrna  looked  wistfully  in  his  eyes.  Her  heart  ached 
at  the  thought  of  losing  him  again. 

'Courage,  m'amie  ! '  he  said,  mistaking  the  cause  of 
her  hesitation. 

'  My  courage  fails  not,  Ralph,'  she  answered.  '  I  had 
held  thy  castle  while  a  man  would  obey  my  orders  and 
stand  to  the  walls,  even  hadst  thou  been  dead,  as  they 
tried  to  make  me  believe.  How  then  should  I  quail  to 
hold  it  for  thee  living  ?  I  do  but  mourn  that  we  must 
part  again.' 

And  again  Ralph  took  her  face  between  his  palms 
and  kissed  it. 

•  •  •  •  •  •  • 

Meanwhile  Lanfranc,  the  Primate,  sat  writing  in  his 
closet  ;  a  satisfied  smile  hovered  round  the  corners  of 
his  mobile  lips  and  lighted  up  the  depths  of  his  gleam- 
ing Southern  eyes.  A  monk  stood  waiting  to  receive 
the  letter. 

It  ran  thus  : — 

'To  his  lord,  William,  King  of  the  English,  his  faithful 
Lanfranc  sends  his  faithful  service  and  faithful  prayers. 
Gladly  would  we  see  you,  as  an  angel  of  Gcxl,  but  we 
are  unwilling  that  you  should  take  the  trouble  of  cross- 
ing the  sea  at  this  particular  juncture.  For  if  j-ou  were 
to  come  to  i)ut  down  these  traitors  and  robbers,  you 
would  do  us  dishonour.  Rodulph  the  Count,  or  rather 
the  traitor,  and  his  whole  army  have  been   routed,  and 


232  HOW  RALPH  CAME  HOME. 

ours,  with  a  great  body  of  Normans  and  Saxons,  are  in 
pursuit.  Our  leaders  inform  me  that  in  a  few  days  they 
will  drive  these  perjured  wretches  into  the  sea,  or  capture 
them  dead  or  alive.  The  details  I  send  you  by  this 
monk,  who  may  be  trusted,  as  he  has  done  fealty  to  me. 
May  God  Almighty  bless  you.'  ^ 

The  details  which  Lanfranc's  messenger  had  to  give 
of  the  defeat  of  the  Earl  of  East  Anglia,  or,  as  the 
prelate  styled  him,  Rodulph  the  Count,  we  already 
know. 

Turning  to  the  monk,  the  archbishop  said,  '  Regard- 
ing the  base  uprising  favoured  and  headed  by  our  lord- 
king's  cousin,  Roger,  Earl  of  Hereford,  the  tidings  are 
of  like  good  savour.  Inform  our  liege  that  the  English 
prelates.  Bishop  Wulfstan  and  Abbot  ^thelwig,  in  union 
with  Urse,  Sheriff  of  Worcestershire,  have  hindered  the 
traitor  from  passing  the  Severn,  and  have  taken  the  earl 
himself  prisoner,  whereon  we  pray  our  liege  heartily  to 
make  known  his  wishes  how  we  may  best  dispose  of  this 
haught  prisoner. 

'  Forget  not  to  repeat  likewise  the  stratagem  by  which 
the  Count  Rodulph's  men  deceived  us,  so  that  we  made 
not  his  body  secure,  and  know  not  certainly  if  he  be 
dead  or  alive.' 

'  I  will  forget  no  detail,  good  my  lord  Archbishop,' 
replied  the  messenger  ;  and  Lanfranc  folded  his  letter, 
and  fastened  it  with  a  silken  cord,  and  sealed  it  with  his 
official  seal. 

^  Lanfranc,  0pp.  i.  56,  translated  by  Hook,  Lives  of  the  Archbishops 
of  Cantcrl'iiry,  vol.  ii.  p.  136. 


//OW  RALPH  CAME  HOME.  233 

'  Naught  could  be  more  satisfactory,'  he  murmured  to 
himself,  as  he  was  performing  these  small  offices,  'than 
the  manner  in  which  the  Saxons  have  ranged  themselves, 
in  this  matter,  upon  our  liege's  side.  It  was  a  bold 
stroke  on  the  part  of  the  Lady  Judith  to  warn  us  of  her 
husband's  schemes,  and  to  risk  his  rage  and  his  danger. 
Sooth,  it  had  been  a  dire  struggle  if  the  doughty  son  of 
Siward  had  taken  his  part,  as  the  plotters  did  well 
intend.  A  turmoil  raised  for  the  sake  of  one  woman, 
and  foiled  by  another !  Thanks  to  thee,  Judith,  the 
day  is  ours  ! ' 

But  not  to  be  ended  quite  so  speedily  as  the  sanguine 
Primate  supposed.  A  woman  was  to  hold  his  best  troops 
at  bay  for  a  space  of  three  long  months,  and  then  to 
make  terms  quite  other  than  a  choice  between  imprison- 
ment or  the  bottom  of  the  sea. 

The  race  is  not  always  to  the  swift,  nor  the  battle  to 
the  strong ! 


CHAPTER   XVIII. 

BESIEGED. 

'  Methinks,  Emma,  my  foes  will  say  that  Ralph  de 
Guader  was  a  recreant  knight,  who  fled  from  his  devoir 
and  left  his  lady  to  fight  for  him  !  Beshrew  me,  but  it 
mislikes  me  to  leave  thee  ! ' 

So  quoth  the  carl,  when,  after  a  few  days  of  rest  and 
rehabilitation  at  Blauncheflour,  he  was  making  ready 
to  go  on  board  a  Danish  galley,  which  lay  moored  at 
Lovelly's  Staithe,  her  brightly  coloured  sails  flapping 
idly  in  the  summer  wind  ;  the  heads  of  the  oarsmen, 
with  their  long  light  hair  and  long  light  moustaches, 
showing  in  even  ranks  along  her  bulwarks,  and  her  high 
dragon-carved  prow  gleaming  in  the  sun. 

Emma,  upright  and  determined,  with  the  keys  of  the 
castle  at  her  girdle,  and  wearing  her  steel-cap  and  mail 
gorget,  forced  back  the  tears  that  sprang  to  her  eyes, 
and  turned  proudly  to  the  warrior  beside  her,  who, 
dressed  in  complete  mail,  with  his  long  cross-handled 
sword  suspended  from  a  jewelled  baldric,  looked  the 
perfect  figure  of  a  hero. 

'  Nay,  my  Ralph !  whatever  hard  things  they  may 
say  of  thee,  they  will  never  be  so  mad  as  to  accuse  thee 

234 


BESIEGED.  235 

of  aught  that  savours  of  cowardice.  Thy  valour  has 
been  too  well  proven  on  many  a  well-fought  field  !  Did 
not  William  see  thee  fight  at  Hastings,  and  give  thee 
thine  earldom  for  thy  prowess?  Didst  thou  not  defend 
his  conquest  from  the  Danish  invaders,  and  win  fresh 
honours  and  lands  ?  Who  could  withstand  thee  in  the 
tourney  ?  Oh,  it  is  preposterous  !  Rebel  they  may  call 
thee,  recreant  never  ! ' 

Ralph  de  Guader,  however,  gauged  the  justice  of 
the  makers  of  history  better  than  his  warm  -  hearted 
countess.^ 

He  looked  at  the  waiting  galley  with  a  sigh,  wonder- 
ing if  he  should  ever  again  be  lord  in  his  English 
earldom. 

He  had  not  been  idle  during  his  short  stay  in  his 
capital.  \\' ithout  waiting  for  liis  wounds  to  heal,  he  liad 
been  up  and  doing  as  soon  as  a  few  days  of  rest  had 
made  it  possible.  He  had  summoned  his  local  sup- 
porters, who — if  we  may  judge  from  the  number  of 
estates  entered  in  Domesday  as  '  Wasta '  later  on — were 
numerous,  to  more  than  one  council,  and  had  done  much 
to  restore  their  confidence  in  his  arms  and  ihcir  belief 
in  his  ultimate  success. 

His  own  heart  had  grown  lighter  as  he  went  the  round 
of  his  magnificent  new  castle,  which  William  had  nuiiii- 
tioned  with  every  improvement  then  known,  and  truly 
it  seemed  well-nigh  impregnable,  with  its  high  towers 
and  battlemented  walls,  and  deep,  sullen  moats. 

Preparations  for  the    siege  had   been   going  merrily 

'  See  Appendix,  Note  D. 


236  BESIEGED. 

forward.  Fat  beeves  were  driven  up  from  the  meadows  ; 
the  bleating  of  sheep  mingled  strangely  with  the 
clangor  of  arms,  and  the  large  herds  of  swine  so 
dear  to  Saxon  housekeeping  contributed  their  quota  of 
victims,  while  not  a  little  fun  was  caused  among  the 
laughter-loving  soldiery  by  the  exciting  difficulties  of 
persuading  the  squeaking  porkers  to  cross  the  draw- 
bridge, and  many  were  the  tussles  and,  in  some  cases, 
dire  the  misfortunes  incurred  in  the  sport. 

Barrels  of  salt  meat  and  flour  and  ale  were  rolled  up 
the  ballium  by  the  stalwart  arms  of  the  bows  and  bills; 
arms  destined,  alas  !  to  be  but  bare  skin  and  bone  when 
they  should  issue  again  from  the  walls  of  the  fortress. 

All  was  bustle  and  plenty.  Sinews  of  war  of  every 
kind  were  there  in  superfluity. 

De  Guader  saw  clearly  that  to  shut  himself  up  in  the 
castle  was  to  make  himself  helpless ;  but  that  to  leave 
its  defence  to  his  vassals,  and  go  forth  to  collect  reinforce- 
ments in  Denmark  and  Bretagne,  and  take  the  besiegers 
in  rear,  was  a  plan  that  promised  all  success  ;  and  every 
man  among  his  counsellors  agreed  with  him. 

Yet  it  was  hard  to  leave  the  fair  bride  for  whom  he 
had  risked  so  much,  and  whose  noble  sympathy  in  his 
misfortunes  had  endeared  her  to  him  a  thousandfold. 

No  wonder  that  his  heart  failed  him  at  the  last,  when 
the  moment  for  parting  had  arrived,  and  the  time  and 
tide  that  wait  for  no  man  were  ripe  for  departure. 

'  It  mislikes  me  to  leave  thee  ! '  he  said. 

'  Sweet  my  lord,  "  he  that  putteth  his  hand  to  the 
plough  must  not  look  back," '  said  Emma,  meeting  his 


BESIEGED.  237 

wistful  eyes  firmly.  'An  thou  standest  quavering  for 
my  poor  sake,  while  yon  oarsmen  are  broiling  on  their 
benches,  I  myself  shall  accuse  thee  for  a  recreant !  Dost 
doubt  the  courage  of  thy  Castellan  ? ' 

'  No,  by  St.  Nicholas  !  Thou  art  the  true  daughter  of 
a  noble  sire  ! '  said  the  earl.  A  group  of  knights,  Saxon, 
Breton,  and  Norman,  stood  around  him,  some  half-dozen 
in  readiness  to  accompany  him,  while  the  rest  were 
gathered  from  the  neighbourhood,  or  formed  part  of  the 
garrison  ;  amongst  these  last,  Sir  Alain  and  Sir  Hoel 
and  Leofric  Ealdredsson  were  conspicuous. 

The  earl  turned  to  them  :  '  Obey  your  lady  loyally, 
guard  her  zealously ;  and  may  the  saints  have  mercy  on 
the  man  who  is  untrue  to  his  trust ! '  he  cried,  '  for  I 
will  have  none.' 

*Thy  threat  touches  no  man  here,  good  my  lord,' 
blustered  Do  Gourin,  '  I  will  warrant  every  soul  in  the 
garrison  ready  to  die  for  that  trust.' 

*  Ay,  ay ! '  cried  the  rest  ;  but  a  strange  quiver  of 
doubt  ran  through  the  bosom  of  the  valorous  Castellan, 
as  to  whether  one  man  there  was  honest  and  leal,  and 
the  man  she  doubted  was  the  Breton  protester. 

Then  the  earl  mounted  and  rode  down  to  the  waiting 
galley  ;  and  soon  the  long  oars  were  sweeping  rhythmic- 
ally through  the  blue  water  and  shedding  simultaneous 
showers  of  pearly  drops  from  their  glittering  blades  ;  the 
gay  sails  swelled  fairly  in  the  breeze,  so  that  the  dragon- 
prow  moved  swiftly  down  the  shining  reaches  of  the 
Yare. 

But  Emma  did  not  watch  it  ;  she  had  slipped  away  to 


238  BESIEGED. 

the  oratory,  and  knelt  before  the  altar  in  speechless  but 
passionate  prayer,  while  the  tears  she  had  repressed  so 
long  chased  each  other  down  her  cheeks. 

A  terrible  fear  was  gnawing  at  her  heart,  that  her 
husband  had  but  left  her  to  die  in  that  wild  Denmark, 
amongst  the  rough  Norsemen,  for  she  knew  how  sore 
and  desperate  were  his  unhealed  wounds,  and  by  what 
effort  his  high  spirit  forced  his  body  into  action. 

She  had  steeled  herself  to  serve  him  as  he  wished  to 
be  served,  but  it  had  been  liefer  to  her  woman's  heart  to 
tend  and  leech  him  into  perfect  health,  than  to  command 
and  urge  his  vassals  to  hurt  others  as  sorely. 

Meanwhile  the  king's  forces  were  not  so  far  away  as 
Ralph  supposed. 

On  the  eve  of  the  third  day  after  the  earl's  embarka- 
tion, the  warders  on  the  battlements  of  Blauncheflour 
heard  afar  off  the  thunderous  tramp  of  steeds  and  the 
jingle  and  clang  of  harness  and  arms,  and,  as  the  sun 
sank  in  a  splendour  of  golden  clouds,  his  last  rays  gilded 
the  hastily  pitched  pavilions  of  Bishop  Geoffrey  of 
Coutances,  Earl  William  of  Warrenne,  and  Robert 
Malet,  who  led  the  investing  army  to  the  attack. 

The  Bishop  of  Bayeux,  though  not  dead,  as  the 
fugitives  supposed  who  had  seen  the  combat  between 
Odo  and  Earl  Ralph,  with  its  catastrophe  of  mutual 
unhorsing,  was  Jiors-de-couibat  for  the  time  being,  and 
unable  to  seek  retrieval  of  his  knightly  prowess  in 
person. 

The  Countess  Emma,  with  Eadgyth  and  her  ladies, 
ascended  to  the  battlements  of  the  keep  to  view  the 


BESIEGED.  239 

encampment  of  the  foe,  and  in  sooth  the  sight  would 
have  been  gay  enough  if  it  had  not  borne  so  dire  a 
meaning. 

Groups  of  ghttering  horsemen,  their  long  lances 
decked  with  many-coloured  pennons  gleaming  in  the 
golden  light,  their  horses  curveting  and  prancing,  were 
riding  hither  and  thither,  directing  and  superintending. 
Long  lines  of  bowmen  and  slingers  were  advancing  in 
order  at  a  quick  march,  wheeling  and  breaking  into 
companies  as  they  reached  the  camping  ground.  Trains 
of  sumpter  mules  and  squires  with  led  horses  mingled 
with  the  infantry  ;  and  shouts  and  laughter,  the  braying 
of  trumpets  and  neighing  of  horses,  mixed  fitfully  in  the 
soft  south  wind.  Sometimes  even  the  words  were  audible 
as  some  man-at-arms  shouted  to  his  followers,  and  the 
blows  of  the  mallets  with  which  the  poles  of  the  pavil- 
ions were  being  driven  into  the  ground  came  sharply 
through  the  air.  The  tents  themselves  were  decked  with 
richly-hued  silks,  and  soon  displayed  the  banners  of  their 
noble  owners.  As  the  twilight  deepened,  some  hundreds 
of  watchfires  threw  out  bright  flames  into  the  dusk,  and 
made  the  air  fragrant  with  their  sweet  wood  smoke, 
seeming  to  blaze  the  brighter  as  the  curfew  boomed 
forth  from  the  church  towers  in  Norwich,  to  bid  all  the 
inhabitants  of  humble  rank  rake  out  their  cheerful 
hearths. 

All  'the  pomp  and  circumstance  of  glorious  war,'  as 
it  was  known  in  those  da}'s,  was  spread  out  before 
Blauncheflour,  and,  as  Emma  watched  the  doings  of  her 
foe,  there  rose  in  her  spirit  that   wild  and  mysterious 


240  BESIEGED. 

'rapture  of  battle,'  which  modern  Darwinians  explain 
by  tracing  back  our  lineage  to  tiger  forefathers, — that 
strange  yearning  to  dare  all  and  spend  life  itself  in  one 
great  effort,  which  some  have  said  is  but  the  endeavour 
to  satisfy  our  instinct  to  grapple  with  abstract  evil  by 
personifying  it  in  the  form  of  a  human  foe  ;  but  which 
others  define,  perhaps  more  truly,  as  the  final  efflor- 
escence of  egotism  run  riot,  which  satisfies  its  lust  of 
power  even  at  the  cost  of  destruction  to  itself. 

Good  or  bad,  the  feeling  flooded  Emma's  heart.  At 
sight  of  real  danger,  menacing  and  close,  she  who  had 
fainted  at  the  thought  of  it  grew  bold  as  any  of  the 
belted  knights  in  the  hostile  host  below.  The  blood  of 
her  hero  father  coursed  swiftly  through  her  veins,  and 
the  wild  battle-song  of  Rollo,  which  had  served  her 
ancestors  so  often  as  a  national  hymn,  haunted  her 
brain. 

She  had  ascended  one  of  the  small  flights  of  steps  at 
the  angle  of  the  battlements,  which  served  to  raise  the 
sentinel  above  the  merlons. 

Eadgyth  stood  beside  her,  and  the  ladies  and  knights 
in  attendance  were  all  busily  watching  the  encamping 
foe  through  the  embrasures,  and  were  out  of  earshot. 

Emma  stretched  out  her  right  hand  with  its  small 
fingers  tightly  clenched,  and  shook  it  at  the  beleaguer- 
ing host. 

'  Methinks,  Eadgyth,  these  haught  chevaliers  with 
their  baldrics  and  their  golden  spurs,  and  above  all  my 
Lord  Bishop  of  Coutances,  cut  a  sorry  figure  assembling 
their  forces  thus  to  crush  a  woman,'  she  cried,  with  an 


Emma's  first  sight  of  the  Foe. 


BESIEGED.  24 1 

excited  laugh.  '  How  wrathful  will  they  be,  when  the 
brave  ger-falcon  they  deem  to  be  mewed  up  within  these 
towers  swoops  down  upon  them  as  from  the  skies,  with 
a  gallant  army  of  bold  Bretons,  backed  by  some  of 
Sweyn  Ulfsson's  best  warriors.  Do  your  worst,  ye  tools 
of  my  tyrant  kinsman!  I  fear  ye  not.  My  lord  is  safe — 
my  lord  ye  would  fain  have  hindered  from  being  mine. 
And  I  am  safe  also,  whatever  betide — my  i/iisericorde 
assures  that' 

'  Holy  Mary  preserve  thee  from  such  a  desperate 
safety ! '  exclaimed  Eadgyth,  whose  sad,  still  face  con- 
trasted strongly  with  the  flushed  excitement  of  the 
impulsive  Norman. 

'  Thou  art  down-hearted,  Eadgyth  ! '  said  Emma,  after 
a  piercing  glance  into  her  bower-maiden's  eyes.  '  I 
know  thee  too  well  to  believe  that  thy  depression  comes 
from  vulgar  fear.  Tell  me  thy  grief.  We  are  as  private 
here  as  in  my  bower.     None  can  hear  our  speech.' 

'  Seest  thou  yon  star  shining  between  two  bars  of 
cloud,  noble  Emma?  It  reminds  me  of  one  who  bore 
a  painted  star  between  two  clouds  for  his  cognisance. 
A  dire  doubt  haunts  me  lest  he  be  in  the  ranks  of  the 
foe  ;  for  I  well  remember  his  heart  was  always  with 
the  Duke  of  Normandy.' 

'  Sir  Aimand  de  Sourdeval  ?  Nay,  surely  he  would 
not  lift  his  hand  against  his  lord.  Besides,  the  carl  told 
me  that  he  had  sent  him  on  a  long  journey.' 

Through  Eadgyth's  heart  passed  a  quiver  of  pain. 

'  Not  surely  the  longest  journey  of  all,'  her  anxious 
affection  whispered,  but  she  was  silent. 

Q 


242  BESIEGED. 

'  Poor  child,  I  feel  for  thee  ! '  said  the  countess,  laying 
her  hand  caressingly  on  the  flaxen  head  of  the  Saxon, 
which  her  elevated  position  on  the  stone  steps  enabled 
her  to  do  comfortably.  She  had  assumed  a  very  matronly 
manner  since  the  gold  ring  had  been  slipped  upon  her 
finger  by  her  heart's  chosen,  and,  in  truth,  she  felt  as  if 
years  of  experience  had  gone  over  her  head  since  the 
day  when  her  brother  had  come  to  her  and  told  her 
'  that  her  broken  troth  should  soon  be  mended.' 

Sir  Alain  de  Gourin  approached  with  an  obsequious 
air,  and  the  countess  said  to  him  gaily,  '  I  hope,  fair  sir, 
the  gentlemen  yonder  are  well  satisfied  with  the  quarters 
they  have  chosen,  for  methinks  it  will  be  somewhat  long 
e'er  they  change  them  for  the  hospitable  shelter  of 
Blauncheflour.' 

At  which  De  Gourin  laughed  applaudingly,  and  swore 
that  if  the  garrison  had  half  the  spirit  of  their  Castellan, 
they  would  send  them  to  bide  still  farther  from  their 
doors. 

Then  the  countess  led  her  ladies  down  to  the  chapel, 
where  the  chaplain  performed  a  special  mass,  praying 
the  protection  of  the  heavenly  powers  for  the  be- 
leaguered garrison  and  for  all  who  fought  on  their  side, 
at  home  or  abroad,  and  offering  prayers  for  the  safety 
and  success  of  the  earl. 

The  tears  rolled  down  Emma's  cheeks  as  she  repeated 
these  last,  and  many  of  the  ladies  sobbed  audibly,  partly 
for  the  woes  of  their  countess  and  partly  through  fears 
or  sorrows  of  their  own. 

When   the   service   was   over,   Emma   dismissed    her 


BESIEGED.  243 

attendants,  even  Eadgyth,  and  followed  Father  Pierre 
into  his  sacristy. 

*  I  would  have  a  mass  performed,  father,'  she  said, 
'  for  the  soul's  welfare  of  a  knight  whom  I  regard  for 
the  sake  of  one  who  loves  him  well,  and  also  in  that  he 
did  always  seem  to  me  an  honest  wight,  but  of  whom  I 
know  not  whether  he  be  fighting  for  my  dear  lord,  or  if 
he  be  in  the  opposing  host  without.  There  is  no  reason 
why  I  should  make  mystery  of  his  name — Sir  Aimand  de 
Sourdeval' 

'  Sir  Aimand  de  Sourdeval ! '  repeated  Father  Pierre, 
gazing  at  the  lady  with  startled  eyes.  '  Knowest  thou 
not,  noble  countess,  that  he  is  a  prisoner  in  the  dungeons 
of  this  keep  ?  ' 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

'STONE  WALLS  DO  NOT  A  PRISON  MAKE.' 

'  Sir  Aimand  de  Sourdeval  a  prisoner  in  this  castle  ? ' 
repeated  the  countess  in  a  tone  of  the  most  complete 
surprise,  and  her  cheeks  grew  white  with  a  sudden 
horror,  for,  to  explain  this  thing,  either,  it  seemed 
to  her,  the  young  knight,  whose  honest  face  and 
noble  bearing  had  won  her  respect  and  the  heart 
of  her  best-loved  bower-maiden,  must  be  unworthy  ; 
or — and  the  thought  gave  her  a  keener  pang  than 
even  she  had  suffered  from  the  rumour  of  his  death 
—  the  master  of  the  castle  had  made  evil  use  of  his 
power. 

'  Wherefore  is  this  ?  Knowest  thou  his  offence, 
father  ? '  demanded  the  countess. 

The  young  priest  bowed  his  head.  '  Daughter,  if  thou 
wilt  know  the  truth,  the  offence  of  a  too  great  fidelity  to 
his  suzerain,  William  of  Normandy,'  he  answered  in  a 
low  voice. 

A  spasm  of  pain  crossed  Emma's  face  at  this 
objective  presentment  of  her  worst  fear,  and  the  terrible 
heart-searchings  with  which  she  had  entered   into   the 

244 


•'STONE  JVALLS  DO  NOT  A  PRISON  MAKE:     245 

struggle  against  the  Conqueror  returned  with  renewed 
force. 

'  I  would  hear  this  prisoner's  defence  from  his  own 
lips,  and  judge  for  myself  of  his  guilt,'  she  said,  turning 
to  Father  Pierre  with  quick  decision,  and  a  pale,  set 
face,     '  Lead  me  to  him.' 

'  Noble  Emma,  the  dungeon  in  which  he  is  chained 
is  no  seemly  place  for  gold-embroidered  slippers  and 
ermined  robes.' 

'  Less  seemly  still,  then,  for  an  innocent  man,  if 
innocent  he  be,'  cried  Emma,  each  syllabic  sounding 
like  a  challenge  thrown  at  a  foe.  '  Show  me  the  way. 
I  will  see  myself  to  the  lodgment  of  all  under  my 
roof.' 

Then  a  satisfied  light  gleamed  from  Father  Pierre's 
unworldly  dark  eyes,  and  his  thin,  ascetic  features  re- 
laxed into  a  smile.  '  The  Holy  Mother  reward  and 
sustain  thee,  my  daughter  ! '  he  said  softly.  '  Come  then 
at  once ! ' 

Emma  followed  him  ;  outwardly  calm,  but  in  reality 
deeply  moved,  and  not  without  terror  at  thought  of 
entering  those  terrible  dungeons,  which,  although  she 
had  passed  her  life  in  castles,  had  hitherto  been  known 
to  her  only  by  name. 

He  led  her  through  winding  passages  secured 
by  more  than  one  heavy,  clangorous  portal  —  the 
vaulted  walls  echoing  to  the  creak  of  their  hinges 
—  into  the  silence  and  the  darkness  of  the  base- 
ment. 

The  chaplain  was  free  to  penetrate  at  will  into  these 


246      'STONE  WALLS  DO  NOT  A  PRISON  MAKE: 

halls  of  suffering  and  despair  in  the  prosecution  of 
his  sacred  office,  but  the  warders  who  guarded  the 
various  portals  half  forgot  to  make  their  reverence  to 
the  priest,  as  they  stared  with  open-eyed  surprise  at 
the  lady,  till,  on  recognising  her,  they  saluted  with 
clumsy  haste,  and  strove  to  atone  for  momentary  negli- 
gence by  quick  opening  of  the  door  which  formed 
their  ward. 

Emma  shuddered  as  the  torch  with  which  Father 
Pierre  had  provided  himself  gleamed  on  the  damp, 
massive  walls.  It  seemed  to  her  that  imprisonment 
between  them  would  of  itself  bring  death  to  her,  and 
she  marvelled  how  any  human  creature  should  sustain 
life  under  such  conditions. 

'  In  sooth,  noble  Emma,'  said  Father  Pierre,  as  the 
countess  gave  expression  to  this  feeling,  '  the  holy 
saints  have  sent  thee  hither  this  night,  because  time 
grew  pressing.  A  little  while,  and  the  man  who  is  the 
object  of  thine  errand  of  mercy  would  be  released  by  a 
sterner  liberator — death.  If  thou  shouldst  deem  him 
worthy  of  his  dungeon,  he  will  not  need  guarding 
long!' 

'  Ah  ! '  sighed  Emma,  with  a  sharp  pang  of  horror,  and 
instinctively  quickening  her  steps,  as  if  a  moment  might 
be  fatal. 

They  had  reached  a  narrow,  ponderous  door,  studded 
with  huge  nails.  Father  Pierre  produced  a  key  which 
he  had  taken  from  a  warder  who  stood  at  the  end  of 
the  passage.  He  turned  it  in  the  lock,  and,  drawing 
back  their  solid  bolts,  pushed  open  the  door  and  entered 


'STONE  WALLS  DO  NOT  A  PRISON  MAKE:     247 

the  cell  into  which  it  gave  access,  the  countess  following 
with  shrinking  steps. 

The  cell  was  small,  for  it  was  hollowed  in  the  wall  of 
the  keep,  some  thirteen  feet  in  thickness  at  the  outside  ; 
it  was,  perhaps,  eight  feet  square.  The  walls  were  run- 
ning with  moisture,  and  the  air  was  dank  and  fcetid. 
On  a  stone  ledge  raised  a  little  higher  than  the  ground, 
the  prostrate  figure  of  a  man  was  revealed  by  the  fitful 
gleam  of  the  torch,  and  Father  Pierre  went  forward  and 
bent  over  him. 

'Awake,  my  son!'  he  said  gently,  holding  the  torch 
so  that  the  light  fell  upon  the  slumberer's  face. 

Emma's  hands  clung  together  in  anguish  as  she  saw 
the  gaunt,  cadaverous  features,  the  paled  skin,  and  the 
wild  matted  hair  and  beard  of  the  prisoner,  and  marked 
the  fleshlessness  of  the  limbs  that  were  extended  in 
uneasy  length  upon  the  inhospitable  couch.  His 
appearance  might  have  moved  the  hardest-hearted  to 
pity,  and  seemed  all  the  more  terrible  in  contrast  with 
the  image  that  was  in  Emma's  mind,  of  the  young 
knight  as  she  had  last  seen  him,  in  all  the  bravery  of 
the  harness  of  the  jousting-field,  neat-shaven  and  close- 
cropped  as  any  modern  English  gentleman,  according 
to  the  fashion  of  the  Normans. 

The  unhappy  knight  opened  his  eyes  with  a  nervous 
start,  and  sprang  into  a  sitting  posture  ;  the  rattle  of 
chains  that  accompanied  his  movement  revealing  to  the 
ruthful  eyes  of  the  countess  that  his  ankles  were  loaded 
with  heavy  rings  of  iron,  attached  by  chains  to  a 
stanchion  in  the  floor 


248      'STONE  WALLS  DO  NOT  A  PRISON  MAKE: 

'  Fear  nothing,  Sir  Aimand,'  said  the  priest  reassur- 
ingly. '  It  is  I — Father  Pierre  ;  and  I  have  brought  thee 
hope,  and  at  least  the  surety  that  thy  case  will  be 
inquired  into  and  sifted  to  the  ground.  See,  the  noble 
Countess  Emma  has  herself  deigned  to  visit  thy  prison. 
St.  Michael  has  answered  thy  prayers  ! ' 

The  captive  stared  round  him  with  haggard  eyes, 
which  seemed  almost  supernaturally  large  and  bright, 
and  Emma  quailed  as  they  rested  at  length  upon  her, 
with  an  expression  of  wonder  and  inquiry. 

'The  Countess  Emma?'  he  repeated  in  a  faint  voice, 
—'the  bride?' 

Time  for  him  had  been  standing  still  since  the  day 
of  that  fatal  bride-ale,  which  brought  evil  in  some  form 
to  all  who  partook  of  it ! 

'  Art  thou  indeed  Sir  Aimand  de  Sourdeval  ? '  said 
Emma,  crossing  the  cell  and  standing  before  the  prisoner, 
her  beautiful  face  full  of  pity,  yet  not  all  softness.  '  Un- 
happy knight,'  she  added  almost  sternly,  her  clear, 
decisive  utterance  ringing  round  the  cell,  '  what  crime 
hast  thou  committed  against  my  lord,  that  thou  art 
subject  to  such  durance?' 

De  Sourdeval  threw  back  his  head  with  a  gesture  of 
indignation  ;  then  his  expression  changed  to  one  of 
sadness,  and  he  threw  himself  on  his  knee  before  the 
countess. 

'  Noble  Emma,'  he  said,  '  the  only  crime  I  have  com- 
mitted against  thy  lord  and  mine  own  liege,  was  that  of 
being  faithful  to  his  suzerain  and  mine,  nor  can  I  believe 
the  kind  and  generous  De  Guader  knows  my  fate.' 


'STONE  WALLS  DO  NOT  A  PRISON  MAKE.'     249 

'  Thank  God  ! '  cried  Emma,  with  a  sudden  sob. 

'  Thou  hast  been  good  to  me  always  ! '  exclaimed  De 
Sourdeval,  with  intense  excitement,  his  breast  heaving 
and  his  eyes  shining  as  he  spoke.  '  Oh,  gracious  countess, 
bear  my  petition  to  thy  lord,  and  tell  him  that  Aimand 
de  Sourdeval  was  never  unfaithful  to  him  in  word  or 
deed,  and  pray  him  to  sift  this  matter  to  the  bottom, 
for  if  he  knoweth  aught,  'tis  most  like  that  his  ears 
have  been  abused  by  the  untrue  malignities  of  my 
enemies.' 

'  Knowest  thou  not  that  the  earl  is  sped  to  Denmark, 
there  to  collect  fresh  forces  wherewith  to  relieve  us 
from  the  beleaguering  host  that  now  sits  before  the 
castle  walls?'  asked  Emma,  with  less  firmness,  feeling 
for  the  fu'st  time  the  full  weight  of  the  responsibilities 
she  had  undertaken.  '  In  my  hands  is  the  ruling 
of  the  castle  ;  tell  me,  therefore,  the  burden  of  thy 
petition.' 

Then  Sir  Aimand  related  to  her  the  story  of  his  ad- 
ventures on  the  night  of  her  bridal,  and  how  Sir  Alain 
de  Gourin  had  foully  entreated  him,  a  narrative  broken 
by  terrible  fits  of  coughing,  showing  how  deeply  the 
chills  of  his  prison  had  wrought  upon  his  frame,  and  by 
exclamations  of  surprise  from  the  countess,  who  was 
much  startled  to  discover  the  conduct  of  the  l^reton 
knight,  and  in  great  perplexity,  for  she  felt  keenly  that 
Sir  Aimand  had  but  acted  the  part  of  an  honourable 
man,  ami  that  to  offer  him  a  pardon  under  such  circum- 
stances would  be  but  an  insult.  Moreover,  he  seemed 
to  ignore  the  carl's  present  position  of  active  rebellion, 


2 so      'STONE  WALLS  DO  NOT  A  PRLSON  MAKE: 

and  she  could  not  gather  how  far  he  was  aware  of  the 
position  of  affairs. 

'  Doubtless,  Sir  Knight,'  she  said,  '  thine  impulse  to  be 
faithful  to  thy  suzerain  was  that  of  a  true  and  loyal  soul, 
and  none  can  blame  thee  ;  but  William  of  Normandy 
has  made  the  land  groan  under  his  tyranny,  and  so 
haught  and  overbearing  was  he,  that,  for  the  mere 
delight  of  showing  his  power,  he  crushed  his  most  loving 
peers  under  his  heel.  Thou  knowest  that  he  strove 
to  part  my  lord  from  me,  and  forbade  our  marriage  ; 
and  so  wroth  was  he  at  the  breach  of  his  capricious 
mandate,  that,  in  self-defence,  my  lord  was  driven  to 
take  arms.  Let  the  past  be  forgotten.  Thou  shalt  be 
reinstated  in  all  knightly  honour,  and  shall  prove  thy 
faith  to  the  earl  thy  lord,  by  defending  his  lady  in  his 
absence.' 

She  held  out  her  white  jewelled  hand  to  the  gaunt, 
unkempt  prisoner,  looking  in  his  face  with  a  persuasive 
witchery  that  might  have  tempted  a  man  to  leave  a 
palace  for  a  dungeon.  But  De  Sourdeval  kept  back  his 
meagre,  unwashed  hand. 

*  Noble  countess,'  he  exclaimed,  with  a  long  sobbing 
sigh,  that  showed  how  great  the  effort  was  to  speak 
words  that  might  close  for  ever  his  half-opened  prison 
door,  '  against  whom  am  I  to  defend  thee  ?  Am  I  to 
fight  men  who  are  faithful  to  their  knightly  vows,  by  the 
side  of  traitors  who  have  broken  troth  ?  ' 

'  My  son !  my  son ! '  interposed  Father  Pierre 
anxiously.  The  knight's  bold  words  brought  home  the 
unvarnished  truth  of  the  situation  with  a  startling  clear- 


'STONE  WALLS  DO  NOT  A  PRLSON  MAKE:      251 

ness,  which  his  own  dreamy  nature  had  enabled  him  to 
shirk  facing  hitherto. 

Emma  proved  cowardly  ;  she  evaded  a  direct  answer, 
and  sheltered  herself  behind  the  privileges  of  her 
sex. 

'  Surely  thy  vow  of  chivalry  binds  thee  to  succour 
ladies  in  danger?  We  are  in  danger,  myself  and  my 
ladies.  Eadgyth  of  Norwich,' — she  paused  and  looked 
in  his  face.  De  Sourdeval  made  a  gesture  of  distress, 
— '  Dame  Amicia,  whose  age  and  infirmity  should  nerve 
the  arm  of  a  brave  young  knight  and  all  our  band, 
need  the  help  of  every  stalwart  friend  who  can  be 
found.  Still  further.  Sir  Aimand,  famine  is  our  most 
dread  foe,'  she  added,  half  smiling  at  the  inhospit- 
able thought.  '  We  can  ill  support  idle  mouths  in 
Blancheflour.' 

'Let  me  then  starve,  clear  lady,'  replied  De  Sourdeval 
in  a  low  voice  of  desperate  earnest,  and  avoiding  her  too 
persuasive  eyes.  '  I  cannot  lift  my  hand  against  my 
heart's  witness  to  the  right.* 

'  Fight  not  then,  noble  Sir  Aimand  ! '  exclaimed  tlic 
countess,  deeply  moved.  '  Only  pass  thy  knightly 
pledge  not  to  betray  us  to  the  foe,  or  to  struggle  to 
escape,  and  thou  shalt  be  free  !  Nay,  if  we  make  a 
prisoner  we  will  honourably  exchange  thee  !' 

'Not  even  that  can  I  do,  noble  countess,'  saitl  vSir 
Aimand  with  unwavering  firmness.  '  I  cannot  pledge 
myself  not  to  help  the  right.' 

'  Nay  then,  thou  art  obstinate  ! '  cried  Emma,  stamping 
on  the  stones  with  one  of  the  gold-embroidered  slippers 


252      'STONE  WALLS  DO  NOT  A  PRISON  MAKE: 

which  Father  Pierre  had  observed  to  be  ill  suited  to 
dungeon  floors,  and  turning  away. 

Sir  Aimand  bowed  his  head  in  silence,  and  made 
no  effort  to  recall  her,  as  she  swept  towards  the 
door,  though  his  trembling  lips  and  clenched  fingers 
showed  the  fierceness  of  the  struggle  he  was 
making. 

But  Emma  paused  before  she  reached  the  door. 
'Thou  art  too  proud.  Sir  Knight,'  she  said  coldly. 
'  But  few  can  rival  the  Fitzosberns  in  that  quality,  and  I 
also  have  my  pride.  I  scorn  to  make  conditions  with  a 
man  circumstanced  as  thou  art.  Abuse  my  generosity 
if  thou  list.     Thou  art  free  ! ' 

'  Mary  Mother  in  heaven  bless  thee  for  thy  goodness, 
noble  countess ! '  cried  De  Sourdeval,  raising  his  head 
with  a  start  of  joy.  '  Yet  methinks  I  am  scarce  free 
yet ! '  He  lifted  his  shackled  limbs,  and  made  the  heavy 
irons  clang  upon  the  floor. 

'  Ah,  good  St.  Nicholas,  no  ! '  cried  Emma,  with  a 
fresh  shock,  as  she  realised  what  sufferings  the  prisoner 
must  have  undergone,  '  But  thou  shalt  be  free  before 
the  sun  is  in  the  sky.' 

'  Noble  countess,'  interrupted  a  harsh  voice  behind 
her,  '  what  means  thy  presence  in  this  cell  at  such  an 
hour  ?  By  the  Rood !  thou  dost  great  honour  to  the 
would-be  murderer  of  thy  husband.' 

'  Liar ! '  hissed  the  prisoner  between  his  set  teeth. 

Emma  turned  with  a  start  to  face  Sir  Alain  de  Gourin, 
his  cheeks  purple  with  passion,  and  his  quivering  hand 
on  the  hilt  of  his  miscricoi'dc.     The  countess  thought  it 


'  STONE  WALLS  DO  NOT  A  PRISON  MAKE:      253 

politic  to  ignore  his  speech,  although  every  word  had 
reached  her  ears. 

'Sir  Alain  !'  she  exclaimed,  simulating  pleasure  at  his 
appearance.  '  Thy  coming  is  most  opportune.  I  was 
about  to  send  a  messenger  to  thee.  Give  orders  forth- 
with that  the  irons  be  struck  from  the  limbs  of  this 
worthy  knight  without  delay.  He  hath  been  shrewdly 
misunderstood,  and  my  will  is  that  he  be  set  free !' 

She  looked  the  mercenary  hardily  in  the  face  as  she 
gave  him  her  command,  and  the  villain  quailed.  He 
saw  that  he  had  come  too  late  to  prevent  her  from 
hearing  Sir  Aimand's  statement  of  the  casd 

He  accepted  the  oblivion  in  which  she  had  buried  his 
first  insulting  speech,  and  took  an  entirely  different  tone. 
'  Thy  will  is  law,  noble  countess,'  he  said  obsequiously, 
and  with  a  low  bow. 

Emma  did  not  retire  to  rest  until  she  knew  that  the 
knight  was  comfortably  lodged  in  the  state  apartments 
of  the  castle. 

The  Breton  had  been  completely  taken  by  surprise. 
He  had  imposed  upon  the  carl  with  a  story  which  the 
latter,  in  the  excitement  attendant  upon  his  ambitious 
enterprise,  had  neglected  to  verify,  and  it  had  never 
entered  his  head  that  the  countess  would  trouble  herself 
about  the  matter.  He  supposed  that  the  carl  himself 
had  at  least  spoken  to  her  of  Sir  Aimand  as  a  culprit, 
and  that  she  was  entirely  ignorant  of  his  presence  as  a 
prisoner  in  the  castle  ;  as  she  had  been,  until  the  strange 
impulse  which  came  to  her  to  have  a  mass  said  for  him, 
caused  her  to  name  him  to  the  chaplain. 


254     '  STONE  WALLS  DO  NOT  A  PRISON  MAKE: 

Even  in  case  of  her  finding  the  matter  out  and  wishing 
to  probe  it,  he  had  an  ingenious  story  ready,  wherewith 
to  put  her  off  the  scent. 

But  the  suddenness  with  which  she  had  taken  matters 
into  her  own  hands,  and  had  visited  the  prisoner  and 
heard  Jiis  version  of  the  facts,  quite  overcame  the  some- 
what clumsy  wit  of  the  Breton. 

His  first  impulse,  as  usual,  had  been  to  bluster,  but  the 
firmness  with  which  the  countess  confronted  him  had 
fairly  cowed  him  for  the  moment,  as  he  knew  that  he 
would  have  to  justify  himself,  and  to  eat  a  good  many 
of  his  words  before  Sir  Hoel  and  the  Norman  knights  of 
the  garrison,  to  whom  he  had  accounted  for  De  Sour- 
deval's  absence  by  representing  that  he  had  been  sent 
on  an  embassy  by  the  earl. 

Many  were  the  curses  that  he  inwardly  showered 
on  the  devoted  head  of  Father  Pierre,  to  whom  he 
attributed  the  discovery  of  his  schemes,  and  he  also 
reviled  himself  for  having  forgotten  him  as  a  possible 
channel  of  communication  between  the  prisoner  and  the 
countess. 

His  wits  had  not  been  the  brighter  for  the  hour  at 
which  Emma  had  happened  on  her  inopportune  dis- 
covery, for  he  had  been  indulging  freely  in  his  favourite 
spiced  hippocras  during  the  evening,  and  therefore  it 
seemed  best  to  his  clumsy  cunning  to  offer  no  further 
open  opposition  to  the  countess,  and  to  carry  out  her 
orders  himself,  thus  gaining  time  to  concoct  plausible 
excuses  before  Sir  Hoel  should  know  of  the  affair. 

Emma  also  kept  her  own  counsel,  and  did  not  say  a 


'STONE  WALLS  DO  NOT  A  PRISON  MAKE:     255 

word  even  to  Eadgyth,  when  the  Saxon  maiden,  who 
slept  in  her  chamber,  came  to  help  her  to  unrobe. 

When  Eadgyth  ventured  a  question  as  to  what  had 
detained  her  to  such  a  late  hour,  the  countess  smiled 
and  kissed  her. 

'Thou  shalt  know  all  in  good  time,  dear  donzelle,' 
she  answered.     '  Ask  me  not  to-night.' 


CHAPTER  XX. 

X   OUTRANGE. 

The  morning  came,  and  with  it  cares  more  important 
than  the  fate  of  the  poor  Knight  of  Sourdeval. 

Before  the  dew  was  off  the  meadows,  the  shrill 
trumpets  of  the  besiegers  were  heard  at  the  barbican, 
demanding  a  parley,  and  calling  for  admittance  in  the 
name  of  the  king. 

The  countess,  holding  counsel  with  Sir  Hoel  de  St. 
Brice  and  Sir  Alain  de  Gourin,  and  other  of  the  knights 
of  the  garrison,  replied  that  she  would  accede  to  the 
parley,  and  receive  the  messenger  in  person ;  and, 
accordingly,  the  messenger  was  blindfolded,  admitted 
within  the  castle,  and  conducted  to  the  council-chamber 
in  the  great  tower. 

The  knight  who  bore  the  message  of  the  king's 
lieutenants  was  sheathed  in  complete  armour,  and 
exceedingly  stately  in  his  mien  and  figure,  being  tall 
and  of  great  personal  strength.  He  was  no  other  than 
Robert  Malet,  whose  father,  the  loved  and  honoured 
William  Malet,  had  been  in  bodily  prowess  second  to 
none  but  the  Conqueror  himself  of  those  who  fought  on 
the  Norman  side  at  Hastings. 

256 


A  OUTRANGE.  257 

As  he  entered  the  room,  the  rebel  knights  in- 
stinctively straightened  themselves,  and  assumed  such 
dignity  of  bearing  as  they  were  capable  of  showing  ; 
but  none  bore  comparison  with  him  save  Leofric 
Ealdredsson,  the  stalwart  Anglo-Dane,  who  had  never 
bent  the  knee  to  the  Norman  Conqueror,  and  who 
now  stood  at  the  right  hand  of  the  countess,  with  the 
lightnings  of  a  noble  defiance  gleaming  in  his  blue 
eyes. 

Yet  Malet  himself  was  to  become  a  rebel  before  his 
death.  When  the  silken  kerchief  with  which  his  eyes 
had  been  covered  was  removed,  he  gazed  proudly  round 
the  assembly,  and  bowed  his  tall  head  to  the  countess 
alone. 

'  In  the  name  of  William  the  Conqueror,  King  of 
England  and  Duke  of  Normandy,'  he  said  in  a  command- 
ing voice,  '  I  call  upon  Ralph  de  Guader  and  Montfort, 
heretofore  Earl  of  East  Anglia,  but  deprived  of  his 
earldom  for  that  he  has  wrongfully  taken  arms  against 
his  suzerain  and  liege  lord ;  and  I  demand  that  he 
instantly  surrenders  this  castle,  which  he  holds  only  as 
the  Constable  of  the  king.  I  demand  that  entrance  into 
the  said  castle  be  at  once  given  to  the  troops  of  his 
Grace  the  king,  and  that  he  thereby  refrain  from 
adding  still  further  to  his  guilt,  by  contumaciously 
retaining  it.' 

'The  Earl  of  East  Anglia  hath  taken  ship  from  this 

countr)',  and  halh  devolved  the  duties  of  Castellan  upon 

me,  his  countess,'  replied  Emma  calml\-. 

'  In  that  case,  noble  lady, —  I  cannot  style  thee  countess, 

R 


258  A  OUTRANGE. 

for  thou  hast  no  longer  right  to  the  title, — I  call  upon 
thee,  as  Castellan  of  this  castle  of  Blauncheflour,  to 
surrender  it  to  the  lieutenants  of  thy  liege  and  kinsman, 
William  of  Normandy,'  answered  the  young  knight, 
fixing  his  keen  blue  eyes  upon  Emma's  fair  face,  whose 
features,  worn  by  the  anxiety  she  had  undergone, 
were  pathetic  in  their  pallor,  and  moved  his  heart  to 
pity.  '  I  may  well  suppose,'  he  continued  boldly, 
'  that  in  so  doing  thou  wilt  with  pleasure  disburden 
thy  slender  shoulders  of  so  heavy  and  unwomanly  a 
burden.' 

Emma  drew  herself  up  with  a  slight  gesture  of  disdain 
for  such  misbestowed  sympathy.  The  knight  responded 
by  adding  hastily,  '  Moreover,  I  would  appeal  to  thy 
gentleness  and  natural  instincts  of  mercy  to  prevent  the 
useless  shedding  of  blood  which  the  holding  of  this 
castle  must  cause,  by  prolonging  a  struggle  which  can 
only  end  one  way.' 

Emma's  delicate  nostrils  quivered,  and  the  fine  firm 
lips  set  fiercely. 

'  The  Countess  of  East  Anglia  desires  to  know  the 
terms  on  which  she  is  asked  to  yield  up  her  faithful 
garrison  to  the  tender  mercies  of  the  men  who  mutilated 
Stephen  le  Hareau,'  she  said,  still  calmly,  but  with 
flashing  eyes,  and  due  emphasis  on  her  title.  '  The  race 
is  not  always  to  the  swift,  nor  the  battle  to  the  strong, 
and  methinks  her  gentleness  and  love  of  mercy  are  more 
nearly  concerned  in  preventing  her  faithful  defenders 
from  encountering  such  a  fate  as  his.' 

'  To  the  Castellan  of  Blauncheflour  I   reply,  that  the 


2  OUTRANGE.  259 

surrender    must   be   without    conditions,'   answered    the 
knight. 

'In  that  case,'  answered  Emma,  'the  Countess  of 
East  Angh'a  repHes,  that  her  garrison  w^ill  win  their  own 
terms  by  their  swords.' 

Leofric  Ealdredsson  burst  out  with  a  loud  '  Ahoi ! ' 
in  the  exuberance  of  his  approbation,  and  clashed  his 
heavy  axe  upon  the  floor,  his  many  bracelets  jingling 
like  small  bells.  '  Well  said  ! '  exclaimed  the  venerable 
Sir  Hoel  de  St.  Brice,  looking  at  the  young  countess 
with  an  expression  of  reverent  affection,  and  from  one 
and  all  the  representatives  of  the  garrison  who  stood 
around  her  chair  broke  various  expressions  of  ap- 
proval. 

The  countess  turned  to  her  knights  with  sparkling 
eyes.  '  I  have  ye  with  me,  then,  in  this  reply,  fair  sirs  ? ' 
she  asked,  and  the  tumult  of  assent  with  which  they 
answered  hindered  Robert  Malet,  for  some  moments, 
from  further  speech. 

In  truth  the  enthusiasm  was  contagious,  and  the  royal 
envoy's  own  eyes  flashed.  The  chivalrous  spirit  of  Fitz- 
osbern's  daughter  jumped  well  with  his  humour.  He 
had  been  a  sorry  Norman  else  ;  no  true  heritor  of  the 
wild  sea-kings.  It  cost  him  some  effort  to  resist  his 
impulse  to  join  in  the  applause,  but  he  controlled  him- 
self, and  said  gravely,  'I  pray  thee,  noble  lady,  to  consider 
well  before  coming  to  so  direful  a  decision  ;  involving, 
as  it  doth,  no  less  an  issue  than  the  adding  of  high 
treason  on  thine  own  part  to  the  heavy  guilt  of  the 
man  thou  hast  wedded  against  the  express  mandate  of 


26o  A  OUTRANGE. 


thy  suzerain.  The  daughter  of  William  Fitzosbeni 
should  be  slow  to  draw  the  sword  against  William  of 
Normandy.' 

'  The  decision  is  final,  Sir  Knight,'  replied  Emma 
curtly  ;  thinking  to  herself  that  William  of  Normandy 
had  not  scrupled  to  insult  the  son  and  daughter  of 
William  Fitzosbern.  She  added  to  those  in  attendance, 
'  Let  this  brave  gentleman  be  reconducted  to  the  gate 
without  delay.' 

The  envoy  bowed  in  silence,  and,  allowing  the  silken 
kerchief  to  be  again  bound  over  his  eyes,  he  marched 
with  stately  grace  from  the  apartment. 

So  Emma  de  Guader  cast  down  her  gauntlet  beside 
that  of  her  husband,  and  dared  the  power  of  her  great 
cousin. 

Before  the  sun  was  midw^ay  in  the  heavens,  a  fierce 
struggle  had  begun  between  the  besiegers  and  the 
besieged  for  possession  of  the  barbican.  This  was  not 
a  strong  construction  of  masonry  as  in  the  Norman 
castles  of  the  twelfth  century,  but  a  deep  and  wide  fosse 
or  moat,  with  a  high  vallum  strengthened  with  stout 
palisading  on  its  inner  side,  of  a  semicircular  or  horse- 
shoe form,  the  horns  nearly  touching  the  present  ditch. 
The  causeway  that  passed  between  the  horns  and  the 
present  ditch,  by  which  access  was  given  to  the  castle, 
was  amply  protected  by  the  towers  of  the  gate-house 
and  the  walls  of  the  castle  itself,  from  whence  arrows 
and  quarrels  would  easily  reach  assailants.  The  similar 
fosse  and  palisaded  vallum  surrounding  the  castle  meadow 
afforded  additional  protection  to  the  eastern  extremity 


A  OUTRANGE.  261 

of  the  causeway  ;  the  portion  of  the  semicircle  to  the 
south-west  being  most  open  to  attack. 

Spearmen  and  javelin-throwers  lined  the  palisades, 
and  from  their  cover  repelled  the  onslaught  of  the 
assaulting  men-at-arms,  who  had  further  to  withstand  a 
whizzing  shower  of  arrows  from  bowmen  hiding  in  the 
wooden  stalls  of  the  market. 

The  king's  men  were  endeavouring  to  throw  a  wooden 
bridge  across  the  ditch.  One  end  was  furnished  with 
wheels,  the  other  with  huge  grappling-irons,  which  they 
strove  to  make  fast  in  the  vallum. 

Watching  them  stood  Leofric  Ealdredsson,  who,  on 
the  night  before,  when  Sir  Alain  de  Gourin  had  been 
sneering  at  the  primitive  Saxon  earthworks,  had  said, 
with  a  laugh  and  a  fierce  gleam  in  his  eyes,  '  Let  me 
defend  them  ;  I  am  used  to  the  rude  English  fashions.' 
A  band  of  his  terrible  house-carles,  armed  with  their 
great  battle-axes,  and  long  of  hair  and  large  of  limb, 
waited  his  orders  with  the  air  of  bloodhounds  in  a  leash 
straining  at  their  collars. 

From  a  loophole  on  the  southern  side  of  the  keep, 
lighting  the  gallery  which  runs  within  the  walls  on  a 
level  with  the  great  entrance,  the  countess  and  her 
bower-maiden  Eadgyth  watched  the  strife. 

Eadgyth  had  been  present  in  the  council-chamber 
during  the  audience  of  Robert  Malct.  '  Thou  wast 
grand,  Emma,'  she  was  saying  to  her  lady  and  friend. 
'  Thou  wast  so  strong  and  courageous,  while,  to  say  sooth, 
my  own  heart  was  beating  like  an  armourer's  hammer.' 

'Thou  art  a  strange  child,  my  Eadgyth,' said   Emma 


262  A  OUTRANGE. 

affectionately,  well  pleased  with  the  admission  of  the 
English  maiden. 

A  wilder  shout  from  the  besiegers  than  any  preceding 
broke  their  converse,  and  for  some  moments  each 
watched  the  progress  of  the  fight  in  breathless  silence. 

For  the  assailants  had  established  their  bridge  against 
the  vallum,  and  over  it  the  attacking  knights  charged  in 
a  body,  led  by  Robert  Malet  in  person,  his  high  crest 
topping  them  all,  and  by  sheer  weight  of  horse  and 
harness  they  drave  down  the  barricades  and  pressed  in, 
hewing  in  sunder  all  before  them. 

Eadgyth  gave  a  shrill  scream  and  threw  her  arms 
wildly  round  the  countess,  who  stood  motionless,  with 
eyes  dilated  and  heaving  breast. 

Then  rang  out  the  wild  Norse  war-cry,  '  Ahoi !  ahoi ! ' 
And  Leofric  and  his  fierce  carles  sprang  forward  like 
tigers  ;  and  the  flash  and  crash  of  their  great  axes  smote 
eye  and  ear,  while  more  than  one  knightly  saddle  was 
emptied,  more  than  one  riderless  destrier  ran  neighing 
around  the  enclosure  ;  more  than  one  mailed  warrior, 
impervious  to  arrows  and  quarrels,  was  cloven  through 
his  helm  and  lay  lifeless  on  the  ground. 

The  Anglo-Danes  laughed  in  their  yellow  beards,  and 
vigorously  improved  their  advantage,  so  that  in  a  few 
moments  the  knights  were  forced  back  beyond  the  line 
of  the  barricades,  some  getting  back  across  the  bridge, 
some  falling  into  the  water. 

'  See,  foolish  child  !  thy  cousin  has  driven  them  back  1 ' 
cried  Emma.  For  Leofric  was  akin  to  Harold  on  the 
mother's  side,  and  so  akin  to  Eadgyth.     She  stroked  the 


A  OUTRANGE.  263 

cheek  of  the  frightened  girl  as  a  mother  who  comforts 
an  infant.  '  And  had  he  not,  there  arc  stout  walls  and 
strong  arms  betwixt  them  and  thee.' 

'  I  know  it !  I  know  it !  Rut  it  is  all  so  terrible  !  I 
have  not  thy  nerves  of  steel !  Oh,  Emma,  in  pity  watch 
no  longer  !     I  cannot  bear  it ! ' 

'  Faint  heart ! '  cried  Emma  lovingly.  '  The  clash  of 
arms  doth  but  spur  my  courage.  I  have  always  loved 
it  from  my  cradle.  Methinks  I  had  made  a  doughty 
knight !     It  is  not  danger  that  quells  me.' 

Her  face  grew  sad,  for  the  bitter  pang  of  an  uneasy 
conscience  gnawed  her  soul.  Danger  did  not  quell  her, 
but  her  doubting  heart  tormented  her. 

'Let  me  then  starve,  dear  lady  ;  I  cannot  lift  my  hand 
against  my  heart's  zvitfiess  to  the  right.' 

The  sentence  sprang  into  her  mind  and  seemed  to 
glow  before  her  eyes  as  if  it  had  been  seared  upon  her 
brain  with  red-hot  irons. 

She  drew  her  breath  with  a  long  shuddering  sigh.  In 
the  rapid  crowding  of  events  that  inorning,  the  man  who 
had  spoken  it  in  such  despairing  earnest  had  been 
forgotten,  though  she  had  thought  of  nothing  else 
through  the  long  watches  of  the  night. 

She  turned  to  Eadgyth,  and  bade  her  go  to  the  chapel, 
and  offer  prayers  for  the  earl,  and  the  garrison,  and  the 
souls  of  the  fallen.  'Thou  wilt  feel  safe  within  the  hoh- 
precincts,'  she  said  ;  '  and  Dame  Amicia  shall  attend  me. 
She  is  short  of  sight,  and  the  shouts  of  yonder  madmen 
will  scarce  penetrate  her  ears  ;  she  will  prove  more 
courageous  than  art  thou.' 


264  A  OUTRANGE. 

When  the  aged  lady-in-waiting  came  to  her,  in 
obedience  to  the  message  Eadgyth  had  conveyed,  the 
countess  left  the  loophole  through  which  so  stirring  a 
drama  was  visible,  and  advanced  to  meet  her.  '  I  need 
the  support  of  thy  reverend  presence,  dear  dame,'  she 
said,  and  told  her  how  she  had  found  one  of  her  lord's 
knights  imprisoned,  as  she  believed,  on  a  misunderstand- 
ing, and  that  she  wished  to  question  him  again,  having 
taken  it  upon  her  to  free  him. 

The  old  lady  could  hear  each  syllable  of  Emma's 
clear,  soft  voice,  though  she  was  untroubled  by  the 
shouts  of  the  combatants  below,  and  she  nodded  her 
stately  head  with  its  crown  of  snow-white  hair,  tastefully 
draped  with  a  broidercd  veil  of  Cyprian  crape. 

'  A  good  lad,  a  good  lad,  and  ever  courteous,'  answered 
Dame  Amicia.  '  Thou  dost  well  to  probe  the  matter. 
I  thought  he  had  gone  to  Bretagne.' 

'  It  seems  he  was  in  durance  in  this  castle,'  said  Emma. 
'  But  we  knew  it  not ;  or,  if  my  lord  knew  it,  he  had  no 
time  to  sift  the  charges  against  him.  Methinks,  if  he 
have  somewhat  erred,  he  has  been  punished  enough,  and 
I  may  grant  him  pardon.' 

'  Ay  ;  if  we  forgive  not  the  trespasses  of  others,  how 
can  we  pray  with  a  clean  heart  that  our  own  may  be 
forgiven  ? '  replied  the  old  lady,  nodding  again.  '  We 
must  practise  forgiveness,  or  our  paternosters  are  but  a 
mockery.' 

No  further  words  were  spoken  till  they  reached  the 
apartment  to  which,  according  to  the  orders  of  the 
countess,  Sir  Aimand  had  been  conveyed. 


A  OUTRANGE.  265 

De  Gourin  had  taken  the  precaution  to  place  a  stout 
warder  at  the  door,  who  announced  the  visit  of  tlic 
countess  to  the  knight. 

When  Emma  entered  the  chamber,  Sir  Aimand  threw 
himself  on  his  knee  before  her,  with  an  expression  of  deep 
homage,  and  bowed  to  her  and  to  her  venerable  attendant. 

'  Noble  countess,'  he  exclaimed,  '  I  scarce  know  how 
to  form  my  gratitude  in  words  ! ' 

Emma  was  freshly  shocked  when  she  saw  his  face  and 
form.  Shaven  and  close-clipped  as  became  a  Norman 
knight,  and  clad  in  tunic  and  hose,  the  ravages  of  two 
months  of  misery  were  but  the  more  conspicuous,  as 
they  owed  no  adventitious  aid  to  wild  elf-locks  and 
shaggy  beard.  His  cheeks  were  sunken,  and  his  eyes 
unnaturally  bright  with  fever,  and  the  bones  of  his  thin 
hands  and  limbs  were  pitiful  to  see.  His  voice  also  was 
hoarse  and  hollow.  Emma  felt  that  the  revelations  of 
the  morning  moved  her  more,  not  less,  than  the  doleful 
horrors  of  the  preceding  night. 

'  I  fear  me  thou  hast  greatly  suffered,'  she  said  in- 
voluntarily. '  Rise,  Sir  Aimand,  and  be  seated  ;  thou 
art  not  fit  to  stand.' 

And  Sir  Aimand  was  forced  to  obey  her,  for,  as  he 
rose  to  his  feet,  he  tottered  and  clutched  at  a  stool  for 
support,  and  Emma  recalled  some  fears  that  had  crossed 
her  mind  during  the  night,  with  pathetic  amusement, 
for  she  had  been  haunted  with  the  idea  that  she  had 
perhaps  let  loose  a  very  dangerous  champion  in  the 
castle.  The  poor  knight  looked  little  able  to  fight  cither 
for  her  cause  or  against  it. 


266  A  OUTRANGE. 

'  I  had  come  hither  to  question  thee  more  closely  as 
to  the  circumstances  of  thy  imprisonment,'  the  countess 
said,  '  and  to  see  if  thy  proud  spirit  be  at  all  softened  by 
my  bounty,  but  methinks  the  best  thing  I  can  do  is  to 
send  thee  a  good  leech.' 

'  Noble  countess,  thy  generosity  hath  not  left  me 
unmoved,'  said  Sir  Aimand  eagerly.  '  I  give  thee  my 
parole,  neither  to  attempt  escape,  nor  in  any  way  to 
communicate  with,  aid,  or  abet  the  besiegers,  if  indeed 
thou  wilt  be  gracious  enough  to  accept  it  so  ungraciously 
and  tardily  given.' 

'  I  will  accept  it,'  replied  the  countess,  with  a  gratified 
smile  ;  and  Dame  Amicia  smiled  also,  seeing  that  her 
lady  was  well  pleased,  although  her  deafness  prevented 
her  from  knowing  very  clearly  her  reasons  for  satis- 
faction. 

The  countess  had  felt  that  the  old  dame's  infirmity 
might  be  convenient,  for  the  chief  object  of  her  visit 
was  to  question  the  knight  more  closely  regarding  the 
circumstances  of  his  imprisonment,  and  she  cared  not  to 
trust  his  indictment  of  Sir  Alain  to  any  of  her  gossip- 
loving  ladies. 

'  I  would  that  Sir  Alain  bore  not  so  important  a 
position  in  the  garrison,'  she  said,  after  listening  again 
to  De  Sourdeval's  story.  '  The  Bretons  make  the 
most  part  of  our  strength,  and,  save  one  or  two,  who 
are  vassals  to  my  lord,  he  hath  them  all  under  his 
command.' 

'  Lady,'  answered  De  Sourdeval,  *  strive  not  to  see  me 
righted  to  the  detriment  of  thy  welfare.     It  may  well  be 


A  OUTRANGE.  267 

that  De  Gourin  will  serve  thee  faithfully,  though  he 
satisfied  a  private  vengeance  against  me.  Let  him  not 
know  that  I  accuse  him ;  say  only  that  thou  dost  grant 
me  pardon.     But  be  on  thy  guard  against  him.' 

'  It    must   be   so,'    answered    the    countess,    'for  tlie 
present! 

So  saying,  she  took  her  leave,  the  knight  following  her 
with  grateful  eyes. 

When  Emma  regained  her  bower,  she  summoned 
Eadgyth  to  her. 

'  I  have  news  to  comfort  thy  courage,'  she  said.  '  A 
doughty  champion  is  in  the  castle.  Does  not  thy  heart 
tell  thee  his  name?' 

Eadgyth  opened  her  blue  eyes  in  vague  surprise,  then 
cried,  with  a  start  of  joy, — 

*  Ah,  Emma,  dear  Emma!  hath  the  carl  so  soon 
returned  ? ' 

'  Fie,  maiden  !  wouldst  make  me  jealous  ?  Doth  iJiy 
heart  suggest  the  name  of  my  lord  ? ' 

'What  meanest  thou,  Emma?  Jest  not,  I  pray  thee. 
These  days  are  too  terrible  for  jesting,'  said  Eadgyth, 
with  distressed  mien  and  paling  cheeks. 

Emma  took  both  her  slender  wrists  in  hers  and  looked 
lovingly  in  her  face.  '  Nay,  we  must  jest  to  keep  our 
blood  from  curdling,  Eadgyth.  But  I  will  not  tease 
thee.  Sweet,  'tis  Sir  Aimand  de  Sourdeval  of  whom  I 
speak.' 

Eadgyth  said  nothing,  but  met  Emma's  gaze  with 
eyes  in  which  joy  and  .surprise,  and  doubt  of  herself  that 
was  almost  terror,  were  struggling  for  mastery. 


268  A  OUTRANGE. 

Emma  drew  her  gently  upon  the  seat  beside  her. 
'  Surely  thou  art  glad  to  know  that  he  is  safe,  if  thou 
joyest  not  that  he  is  near  ? ' 

'  Ah  yes !  I  am  glad — glad  indeed  of  his  safety  ! ' 
replied  Eadgyth  in  a  low,  thrilling  voice,  and  her  hand 
sought  the  bracelet  which  she  wore  as  ever. 

'  And  not  of  his  nearness  ? ' 

'I  know  not!  I  know  not!  It  means  but  fresh 
struggle  and  misery  ! '  The  tears  rolled  down  her 
cheeks. 

'  Why  struggle,  Eadgyth  ?  Fate  has  united  you  when 
all  pointed  to  separation.  Eadgyth,  he  needs  thee.  I 
told  thee  sooth  when  I  said  he  was  in  safety.  But  he 
has  suffered  much.  He  is  ill.  Be  thou  his  leech.  Dame 
Amicia  will  attend  thee — her  motherly  heart  warms 
towards  the  youth.' 

'111?'  Eadgyth  looked  in  the  countess's  eyes  with 
almost  fierce  questioning. 

'Ill,'  repeated  Emma,  smiling.  'Not  dying;  not  in 
danger;  I  said  "safe."  It  is  a  long  story,  Eadgyth,  but 
I  must  tell  it  thee.' 

Then  she  told  the  history  we  already  know  ;  and  how, 
after  Eadgyth's  remark  about  him  on  the  battlements,  it 
had  entered  her  heart  to  have  a  mass  said  for  him  ;  how 
it  had  led  to  his  discovery,  and  how  she  had  visited  him 
in  his  dungeon. 

When  she  came  to  that  point,  and  narrated  her  visit, 
describing  his  sorrowful  aspect  with  unconscious  pathos, 
Eadgyth  sprang  up  and  clasped  her  hands  above  her 
head.     '  Oh,  the  terrible  injustice  of  it ! '  she  groaned,  and 


A  OUTRANGE.  269 

afterwards  she  paced  backwards  and  forwards,  unable  to 
control  her  emotion. 

'  But  thy  hero  was  shrewdly  saucy,  Eadgyth.  Woe- 
begone and  desperate  as  he  was, — I  almost  wish  I  had  let 
thee  see  the  figure  he  cut,  with  his  unkempt  beard  and 
tangled  locks,  as  long  as  those  of  thy  Saxon  champions, 
— natheless  he  would  make  no  terms.  I  might  free  him, 
or  leave  him  chained  by  the  leg  like  a  hobbled  steed,  as 
I  found  him.  One  might  have  thought  he  had  passed  a 
pleasant  time  down  there  in  the  dark.  He  would  not 
even  give  me  his  parole  not  to  help  our  besiegers  if  I 
gave  him  the  chance.' 

Eadgyth's  eyes  lighted  up  with  a  proud  joy.  '  That 
was  noble,'  she  said  under  her  breath. 

Emma  laughed.  '  He  had  come  to  a  better  mind  this 
morning,'  she  said  ;  '  I  found  means  whereby  to  tame  his 
proud  spirit.' 

Eadgyth  turned  to  her  with  a  start,  and  wild  \-isions 
of  racks  and  thumbscrews,  and  other  fashionable  instru- 
ments of  the  time,  passed  through  her  mind.  Her  spirit 
was  so  torn  with  the  terror  of  the  day,  and  the  excite- 
ment she  had  undergone,  that  she  did  not  pause  to 
consider  probabilities.  '  Emma  !  thou  hadst  not  heart 
to  crush  one  so  unhappy  ? ' 

'  I  had  ! '  said  lunma. 

Eadgyth's  eyes  looked  duml)  reproach  more  eloquent 
than  words. 

*  Yes,'  said  Emma  ;  '  I  hold  not  the  office  of  Castellan 
of  Blaunchefiour  by  halves !  I  made  use  of  my 
power.' 


270  A  OUTRANGE. 

'  What  didst  thou  do  ? '  asked  Eadgyth  in  a  scarcely 
audible  voice. 

'  I  gave  him  his  Hberty  without  conditions,  and  had 
him  lodged  in  one  of  the  best  apartments  of  the  castle. 
That  touched  my  knight's  pride ;  he  would  not  have  me 
outdo  him  in  generosity,  so  he  capitulated  this  morning, 
and  offered  me  his  parole  without  further  asking  ! '  and 
the  countess  broke  into  a  silvery  peal  of  laughter. 

*  Oh,  Emma,  that  was  like  thy  dear  self!'  cried 
Eadgyth,  running  to  the  countess,  throwing  herself  on 
her  knees  before  her,  and  hiding  her  head  in  Emma's 
robes  like  a  repentant  child. 

Emma  kissed  her.  '  Now,  maiden,  thy  part  must  be 
done.  The  knight  has  promised  neither  to  help  the 
enemy  nor  to  attempt  escape.  Be  it  for  thee  to  persuade 
him  to  buckle  on  his  harness  and  fight  for  us.  He  can 
scarce  see  thy  sweet  face,  and  know  thou  art  in  danger, 
and  not  lift  his  hand  to  help  thee  ! ' 

'/  persuade  him!  —  to  break  his  knightly  vows  and 
fight  against  his  lawful  liege  ?  Never  ! '  cried  Eadgyth, 
raising  her  head  and  throwing  it  back  proudly.  'Strange,' 
she  continued,  more  to  herself  than  to  the  countess, 
indeed,  scarce  knowing  that  she  spoke  aloud,  '  how  thy 
haught  courage  and  noble  generosity  are  allied  with  so 
little  sense  of  moral  right ! ' 

A  flash  of  pain  and  some  indignation  crossed  the 
countess's  brow.  '  I  deny  thy  right  to  judge  me,'  she 
said  coldly.  '  There  are  some  who  strain  after  such  high 
ideals,  they  fail  to  see  the  duties  that  lie  near;  gratitude, 
for  instance,  and  the  welfare  of  their  friends  ! ' 


A  OUTRANGE.  271 

Eadgyth  was  silent,  for  she  felt  that  Emma  was  unjust; 
she  would  have  given  her  life  to  serve  her,  though  she 
would  not  go  a  step  against  her  conscience. 

'  Sir  Aimand  has  suffered  much,'  said  the  countess 
gently,  after  a  pause.  '  He  is  out  of  health  and  out  of 
hope.  A  little  happiness  would  serve  him  in  better  stead 
than  an  armful  of  herbs  and  simples.  Go  to  him, 
Eadgyth !  Encourage  his  contumacy  if  thou  wilt,  but 
go  to  him.' 

And  Eadgyth  went. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

THE   ORDEAL   BY   FIRE. 

At  the  close  of  the  day  the  barbican  still  remained 
in  the  keeping  of  the  besieged. 

It  had  not  been  retained  without  the  loss  of  many 
a  stout  soldier,  and  the  spital  was  crowded  with  patients, 
who  occupied  all  the  healing  talents  of  the  countess  and 
her  ladies. 

When  Emma  at  last  retired  to  her  chamber,  with  her 
Saxon  bower-maiden  in  attendance,  she  was  so  weary 
and  worn  with  the  excitement  and  strain  of  the  day, 
that  she  threw  herself  upon  the  bed,  without  even  taking 
off  her  jewels,  and  fell  asleep  almost  immediately  ;  while 
Eadgyth,  after  softly  laying  a  warm  coverlet  over  her, 
lay  down  beside  her. 

But  not  to  sleep.  Her  brain  was  full  of  dire  and  dis- 
turbing images,  and  even  the  face  of  Sourdeval,  which 
it  had  been  so  great  a  joy  to  her  to  behold  once  more, 
came  to  her  as  she  had  seen  it,  wan  and  melancholy, 
when  he  turned  to  her  as  she  entered  his  apartment, 
before  it  flashed  with  brightness  on  recognising  who  had 
come  to  him.  The  change  in  him  had  shocked  her,  and 
in  her  nervous  and  depressed  mood  she  thought  of  him 


I 


THE  ORDEAL  BY  FIRE.  273 

as  one  whom  death  had  marked  for  his  own,  and  his 
image  was  but  as  a  pale  spectre,  round  which  the  mani- 
fold forms  of  wounded  and  dying  and  tortured  men, 
whom  she  had  beheld  during  the  day,  grouped  as  a 
central  point. 

Her  ears  were  full  of  the  wild  shouts  of  the 
besiegers  and  the  shrieks  of  the  injured,  the  awful 
clash  of  seax  on  helm,  and  hurtle  and  w^hiz  of 
arrows.  Again  and  again  she  woke  from  a  fitful 
doze,  thinking  to  hear  the  thunder  of  charging  knights 
and  the  fierce  '  Aoi ! '  of  Leofric  Ealdredsson  and  his 
carles,  as  they  leaped  forth  from  the  cover  of  the 
palisades  upon  the  foe. 

At  last  from  such  an  awakening  she  sprang  from  the 
bed  ;  better,  she  thought,  to  wake  all  night  than  suffer 
such  awful  dreams. 

But  the  awakening  did  not  silence  the  cries.  They 
were  no  dreams,  those  screams  of  terror,  those  head- 
rending  shrieks  for  help,  they  were  dreadful  realities  ; 
and,  rushing  to  the  window,  she  gazed  out  with  a  beating 
heart  at  the  western  sky,  which  flickered  and  flared  with 
strange  and  ghostly  gleams. 

She  ran  back  to  the  sleeping  countess,  and  by  the 
lurid  light  saw  that  she  was  smiling  in  her  sleep. 

'  Wake !  wake  !  Oh,  Emma  !  dear  countess  !  this 
is  no  night  for  sleep.  Methinks  the  dawn  is  like  to 
bring  the  last  dread  day !  Alas !  she  sleeps  like  a 
young  infant  that  knows  not  danger  or  woe.  Wake, 
Emma  !     Thy  life  may  hang  on  it ! ' 

Then  the  countess,  opening  her  eyes  dreamily,  mur- 


274  THE  ORDEAL  BY  FIRE. 

mured,  '  Thou  hast  brought  good  succour,  Ralph  ! '  The 
next  moment  she  started  up,  '  Mary  Mother !  what  is 
it,  child?' 

'There  is  murder  in  the  air,  Emma!  See,  the  very 
sky  is  full  of  tokens.  Listen  !  listen  !  Oh,  saints  in 
heaven  !  how  they  scream  ! ' 

They  did  indeed !  The  countess  sprang  from  the 
bed  and  rushed  to  the  window  also. 

'  They  have  fired  the  town  ! '  she  cried  ;  '  they  have 
fired  the  town  ! — the  Saxon  quarter !  Sir  Hoel  said 
they  would  ! ' 

'  The  Saxon  quarter !  Oh,  my  home,  my  home  ! '  cried 
Eadgyth,  and,  pressing  her  hands  to  her  ears  in  a  vain 
effort  to  shut  out  the  shrieks  of  the  sufferers,  she 
cowered,  with  closed  eyes,  upon  the  floor. 

'  Let  us  go  to  the  great  portal  of  the  keep,  whence  we 
can  see  it,'  said  the  countess. 

'See  it!'  cried  Eadgyth.  '  Ah,  Emma,  no  !  I  could 
not  look  !     It  would  kill  me.' 

But  Emma  went  forth  boldly,  intent  to  know  if  any- 
thing could  be  done  to  rescue  the  victims. 

Norwich  in  those  days  was  an  open  town.  The  walls 
and  towers,  of  which  portions  still  remain  to  gladden 
the  eyes  of  archaeologists,  were  not  built  till  some  fifty 
years  later,  so  that  it  was  not  possible  to  defend  the 
town  itself  Moreover,  although  the  earl  had  found 
supporters  amongst  the  Saxon  and  Anglo-Danish  in- 
habitants of  the  older  quarters,  numbering  more  than 
one  relative  of  Harold  Godwinsson,  the  majority  of  the 
Norman  denizens  of  the  New  Burg  around  the  Chapel- 


THE  ORDEAL  BY  FIRE.  275 

in-thc-Ficld  remained  loyal  to  William,  and  were  ready 
to  give  all  help  to  the  besiegers.  For  this  reason  was  it 
that  the  western  sky  had  but  flickered  with  the  reflections 
of  flames.  It  was  the  Saxon  quarter  by  the  river,  the 
wooden  tenements  in  King  Street,  which  provided  fuel 
for  the  bonfire. 

Looking  east  from  the  portal  of  the  great  tower,  a 
grand  and  terrible  spectacle  confronted  the  beholders. 

Crackling  flames  shot  up  against  the  dark  midnight 
sky,  dancing  like  living  demons  of  fiery  destruction, 
and  sinking  only  to  lick  the  doomed  houses  with  their 
scorching  tongues  and  spring  up  higher  than  ever. 
Every  now  and  again  some  beam  or  stone  would  burst 
with  a  sharp  report,  throwing  blazing  fragments  into  the 
air ;  and  the  volumes  of  smoke  rolled  far  into  the  night, 
lurid  with  the  red  glare  of  the  flames.  Moats  and 
marshes  and  river  gleamed  and  sparkled  weirdly  with 
the  light  of  destruction,  so  that  the  ground  was  broken 
by  inverted  images  of  fiery  tongues ;  and  it  seemed, 
indeed,  as  if  the  nether  world — so  ardently  believed  in 
by  those  who  were  watching  as  a  material  hell  of  fire 
and  brimstone — had  broken  bounds,  and  was  let  loose 
to  destroy  the  world. 

But  most  awful  was  it  to  see  the  small  black 
figures  that  every  now  and  again  raised  wild  arms 
against  the  flare  of  the  fire  ;  most  awful  was  it  to 
here  the  screams  that  ever\-  now  and  again  rose 
above  the  dull  roar  and  crackle  and  hiss  of  the 
destroying  element. 

When  such  figures  were  seen,  and  such  sounds  heard, 


276  THE  ORDEAL  BY  FIRE. 

curses  and  execrations  burst  from  the  white  Hps  of 
the  soldiers  who  were  crowding  the  eastern  walls  of 
Blauncheflour,  and  the  knights  who  had  assembled 
before  the  portal  of  the  keep. 

As  the  countess  came  down  amongst  them,  she  could 
not  repress  an  exclamation  of  horror,  for  never  in  her 
life  had  she  beheld  anything  so  awful. 

Sir  Hoel  de  St.  Brice  came  instantly  to  her  side. 

'Alas,  dear  lady!  this  is  no  scene  for  thee.  Return 
to  thy  bower.     There  is  no  danger  for  the  castle.' 

*  My  place  is  here,  Sir  Hoel,' said  Emma  firmly.  'I 
am  Castellan  of  this  castle.  The  battle  is  not  always  to 
the  strong.  See,  yonder  flames  hissing  through  the  air 
are  more  terrible  than  a  hundred  mailed  warriors !  The 
flame  of  wit  is  given  to  woman  as  well  as  to  man  ! ' 

'  William's  men  are  doing  thee  homage,  noble  countess,' 
said  De  Gourin,  with  a  sneer.  *  These  are  finer  bonfires 
than  the  good  people  of  Norwich  lighted  on  the  night 
of  thy  arrival  in  their  town  ! ' 

Emma  turned  from  him  with  a  shudder  of  disgust. 

'  How  hath  this  been  accomplished.  Sir  Hoel  ? '  she 
asked  of  the  older  knight.  '  By  what  means  hath  the 
fire  been  enkindled  ? ' 

'  The  king's  men  are  provided  with  mighty  engines,' 
answered  Sir  Hoel.  '  Never  have  I  seen  mangonel  or 
balista  that  carried  so  far.  They  are  throwing  red-hot 
stones  and  balls  of  lead  from  them,  and  the  old  houses 
yonder  have  been  so  well  dried  by  the  sun  of  late,  that 
they  burn  like  tinder.  See,'  he  added,  pointing  out 
some  glowing  stars  in  the  south-east,  which  Emma  had 


THE  ORDEAL  BY  FIRE.  277 

not  before  distinguished  from  the  burning  fragments 
tossed  aloft  by  the  action  of  the  flame,  '  their  fiery- 
hail  continues  even  now.  They  have  got  possession  of 
the  Cyning  Ford,  and  are  flinging  their  missiles  from 
across  the  river.' 

'  And  are  we  to  stand  here  and  gape  at  them,  and  do 
nought  to  stop  them?'  demanded  the  countess  eagerly. 
'Good  St.  Nicholas!  how  the  cattle  bellow  in  the 
castle  meadow  !     Are  the  poor  beasts  in  danger  ?  ' 

'The  fire  frightens  them,  and  no  wonder ! '  answered 
Sir  Hocl.  '  But  they  are  in  safety,  unless,  perhaps,  some 
fragment,  here  and  there,  may  be  carried  from  the  fire, 
and  somewhat  scorch  their  hides.  As  for  thy  former 
question,  I  see  not  that  anything  can  be  done.  Having 
possession  of  the  ford,  I  know  not  how  we  can  dislodge 
them.' 

'  It  would  be  but  throwing  away  good  lives  to  attempt 
it,'  said  De  Gourin,  who  cared  little  whether  a  few  Saxons 
more  or  less  were  burned  on  their  own  hearthstones. 

'  Eadgyth  ! '  exclaimed  the  countess  impetuously  to 
her  bower-maiden,  who  had  followed  her,  notwithstand- 
ing her  terror,  '  hast  thou  not  told  me  there  was  a 
way  through  the  marshes,  that  Harold  used  against  the 
Vikings  ? ' 

Eadgyth,  with  wild  eyes  and  teeth  chattering  in  the 
extremity  of  her  horror,  gazed  at  the  countess  as  if  her 
fear  had  taken  away  her  reason. 

The  countess  repeated  her  question,  and  hLadgyth, 
with  an  effort,  forced  herself  to  attend. 

'Ay,    that    is    so.      My   kinsman     Lcofric    would    be 


278  THE  ORDEAL  BY  FIRE. 

familiar  with  it.  lie  has  iouglit  every  inch  of  this 
ground  against  the  Danes  under  your  lord ! '  she 
said. 

'  Where  is  this  Leofric  ?  Let  him  be  summoned,' 
commanded  the  countess. 

'  He  is  yonder  helping  his  countrymen  to  save  their 
skins  from  the  fire,'  said  Sir  Alain  contemptuously. 

Again  the  countess  commanded,  '  Let  him  be  sum- 
moned ! ' 

And  when,  not  long  after,  Leofric  Ealdredsson  stood 
before  her,  still  breathing  hard  after  his  exertions,  his 
face  begrimed  with  dust  and  smoke,  and  the  wild  fire- 
light gleaming  on  his  tore  and  mail  corselet  and  bracelets, 
she  asked  him  if  he  knew  of  any  way  by  which  he  could 
steal  unperceived  through  the  marshes,  and  take  the 
artillerymen  of  the  foe  by  surprise. 

'  By  Asgaard  !  yes ! '  exclaimed  Leofric,  turning  to 
De  Gourin.  '  And  so  I  told  this  fair  sir  an  hour  ago, 
and  offered  to  show  him  how  he  might  take  them  in 
flank,  and  stuff  their  accursed  red-hot  balls  down  their 
own  throats  ;  or  I  would  have  taken  a  band  under  my 
own  order,  twenty  of  my  house-carles,  if  he  would  add 
twenty  stout  men  from  the  garrison.  But  he  would 
hear  none  of  it.' 

'  We  shall  be  the  safer  that  the  buildings  yonder  are 
burned,'  said  De  Gourin.  '  Why  throw  away  good  lives 
to  stop  it? ' 

'  Why  was  I  not  told  of  this  suggestion  ? '  asked  Sir 
Hoel,  frowning.  '  Thou  takest  over  much  upon  thyself, 
Sir  Alain  ! ' 


THE  ORDEAL  BY  FIRE.  279 

'  Grant  mc  the  men  now,  countess ! '  said  Leofric 
eagerly. 

'  My  lord  owed  his  life  to  thee,  Leofric  Ealdredsson  ! ' 
answered  the  countess.  '  I  know  I  may  trust  thee ! 
Take  thy  stout  carles,  and  twenty  men  beside.' 

*  Ahoi !  By  Freya  !  thou  art  a  pearl  among  women  ! ' 
cried  the  wild  Leofric,  who  was  much  of  a  Viking 
himself. 

'  Ah,  kinsman  Leofric,  leave  those  heathen  names 
alone  ! '  said  Eadgyth.  '  Thou  hast  a  better  symbol  in 
the  hilt  of  thy  sword  ! ' 

But  he  had  not  stopped  to  listen  to  her.  He  had 
gone  off  to  call  his  carles  together,  and  to  choose  his 
twenty  men  from  the  garrison. 

And  some  forty  of  them,  for  the  most  part  Anglo- 
Danes  or  Saxons,  left  the  castle  a  {q.\v  minutes  later, 
leaving  by  the  western  horn  of  the  barbican,  and 
making  their  way  by  the  streets  north  of  the  castle,  by 
Tombland,  to  the  river ;  slipping  along  through  the  firc- 
lightcd  night  with  a  panther-like  trot  on  their  silent 
shoes  of  untanncd  leather,  their  trusty  seaxes  in  their 
right  hands,  and  their  round  red  shields  on  their  left 
arms. 

Arrived  at  the  river,  they  possessed  themselves  of 
boats  without  particularly  asking  the  leave  of  the 
owners,  and  crossed  over  to  the  marshes  on  the  eastern 
bank,  leaving  a  man  in  each  boat  to  guard  it.  They 
crept  through  the  rushes,  as  only  men  who  had  grown 
up  amid  the  fens  could  have  done,  and  fell  upon  the 
unsuspecting  Normans  like  thunderbolts  ;  knocked  their 


28o  THE  ORDEAL  B  V  FIRE. 

balistas  to  fragments,  served  a  good  many  of  their  men 
likewise,  and  returned  as  they  came  to  the  west  bank  of 
the  river. 

Then  they  added  their  strength  to  that  of  the  towns- 
folk to  fight  the  flames,  and,  by  means  of  clearing  large 
spaces  to  windward  of  the  burning  houses,  stopped  the 
fire  from  spreading  its  ravages  indefinitely.  But  five 
less  returned  through  the  castle  gate  than  had  left  it. 

So  went  the  first  day  and  the  first  night  of  the  siege. 

When  day  broke,  the  attack  on  the  barbican  began 
again,  and  so  it  was  for  five  days  afterward  ;  but  at  the 
end  of  the  sixth  the  barricades  were  almost  battered 
down,  and  strong  bridges  were  established  across  the 
ditch,  so  that  the  defenders  thought  it  wise  to  abandon 
it  to  the  enemy,  as  scarcely  worth  the  lives  it  would  cost 
to  maintain  possession  of  it.  But  this  meant  no  very 
great  advantage  to  the  besiegers. 

They  stood  before  the  great  gate  of  the  castle,  the 
actual  entrance  to  which  looked  like  a  mere  mouse-hole 
between  the  sheer  strong  walls  of  its  two  flanking  towers. 
They  well  knew  the  make  of  such  gateways :  their  fold- 
ing-doors of  solid  oak,  strengthened  with  bars  and  bolts 
of  iron,  and  studded  with  huge  nails  to  prevent  the 
cutting  out  of  a  panel  or  staving  in  of  the  same  ;  the 
strong  portcullis  behind  them,  a  harrow-shaped  iron 
grating,  to  be  let  up  and  down  in  a  moment  by  means 
of  pulleys  from  the  inside  ;  above  the  doors  a  row  of 
chimney-like  apertures,  called  machicolations,  through 
which  the  defenders  could  pour  scalding  water,  molten 
lead,  or  any  other  deadly  matter,  upon  the  devoted  heads 


THE  ORDEAL  BY  FIRE.  281 

of  the  assaulting  column,  who  were  exposed  also  to  a 
cross  fire  of  quarrels,  stones,  and  other  missiles  from  the 
flanking  towers. 

Truly,  to  assault  such  a  portal  was  no  child's  play, 
even  with  such  aid  as  could  be  given  by  the  rude 
artillery  of  the  times  :  petronels  and  agerons  for  throw- 
ing stones  and  leaden  pellets,  catapultas  for  shooting 
arrows,  and  the  trebuchettum,  or  warrewolf,  specially 
designed  for  the  smashing  in  of  gates  and  walls  ;  all 
these,  and  more  of  their  kind,  the  king's  men  were  well 
provided  with. 

Stout  Earl  Warrenne,  and  the  astute  Bishop  of 
Coutances,  and  the  accomplished  lance,  Robert  Malet, 
held  many  a  consultation  as  they  rode  round  the  in- 
vested fortress,  and  scanned  it  eagerly  to  see  if  haply 
they  might  discover  some  weak  point  which  should  give 
them  advantage  in  the  attack. 

But  they  decided  that  they  must  become  masters  of 
the  great  gate,  and  so  of  the  ditch,  before  they  could 
make  any  assault  on  the  castle  itself 

A  month  had  passed  away  before  they  were  so 
masters  ;  but  being  so,  they  had  their  opponents  in  a 
veritable  trap.  The  besieged  knew  well  that  a  harder 
struggle  than  ever  lay  before  them  in  their  awful  isola- 
tion, cut  off  from  communion  with  their  fellow-creatures 
by  a  wall  of  human  fury  as  effectually  as  if  they  had 
been  wrecked  on  some  desert  island  in  that  vast  ocean 
of  the  west,  the  opposite  shores  of  which  were  all 
unknown  to  them,  though  its  great  eastern  rollers 
dashed  in  spray  upon  the  Breton  and  Norman  coasts. 


282  THE  ORDEAL  BY  FIRE. 

Through  all  this  weary  time  of  fear  and  suspense, 
with  its  harassing  duties  and  oppressive  sorrows,  the 
Countess  Emma  found  comfort  in  two  dumb  friends  : 
Oliver,  the  earl's  Spanish  destrier,  who  had  been  left  in 
the  fortress  when  De  Guader  embarked  for  Denmark  ; 
and  the  brave  tassel-gentle,  that  had  been  Ralph's  gift  to 
her  upon  the  day  on  which  she  had  promised  to  share 
his  fortunes,  good  or  ill. 

Oliver  had  been  restored  to  his  master,  after  he  had 
been  struck  down  by  Odo's  mace,  by  one  of  those  strange 
accidents  which  seem  to  have  the  finger  of  fate  in  them. 
Some  of  the  old  thegn  Ealdred's  men  had  visited  the  battle- 
field several  days  after  the  fight,  to  see  how  the  land  lay 
and  what  the  king's  men  were  doing.  They  were  attacked 
by  a  band  of  Norman  soldiers,  headed  by  a  knight  who 
was  mounted  on  a  splendid  destrier.  The  animal  was 
full  of  strength  and  courage,  but  the  rider  being,  as  they 
afterwards  found,  one  Stephen  Main-de-fer,  a  parvenu 
who  had  made  his  fortune  out  of  the  woes  of  England, 
like  so  many  of  his  countrymen,  and  who  had  won  his 
spurs  without  having  learned  to  ride,  instead  of  pro- 
fiting by  the  noble  booty  that  had  fallen  to  his  share, 
was  brought  to  his  ruin  thereby ;  for  the  fiery  barb, 
unused  to  such  handling  as  he  gave  it,  and  doubtless 
wondering,  like  Johnny  Gilpin's  steed,  '  what  thing  upon 
his  back  had  got,'  became  unmanageable  in  the  excite- 
ment of  the  fray,  and  threw  his  clumsy  new  master 
heavily  to  the  earth.  There  he  lay  sprawling,  as  little 
versed  in  carrying  his  armour  as  in  managing  his  horse, 
and    Ealdred's   men   did    not   lose   their   opportunity  of 


THE  ORDEAL  B  Y  FIRE.  283 

despatching  him.  After  a  short  struggle,  his  followers 
beat  their  retreat,  and  the  destrier  fell  into  the  hands  of 
the  Anglo-Danes,  who  took  him  back  with  them  to  their 
refuge  in  the  Fens,  where  he  was  immediately  recognised 
with  much  jubilation  by  Grillonnc,  and  restored  to  his 
master. 

So  it  came  to  pass  that  Ralph  dc  Guader  had  been 
able  to  ride  back  into  Blauncheflour  on  his  trusty 
Oliver. 

Since  the  earl  had  quitted  the  castle,  Emma  had 
visited  the  barb  morning  and  night,  and  had  taken  him 
many  a  dainty  wastel  cake  or  sugary  comfit  such  as 
horses  love  ;  and,  stroking  his  satin  neck  with  many  an 
endearment,  longed  for  the  time  when  she  should  sec 
his  master  on  his  back  again.  A  time  which  would 
never  come ! 

At  such  moments  she  would  often  have  the  tassel- 
gentle  on  her  wrist,  and  the  bird  seemed  almost  human, 
so  intelligent  and  tame  was  he. 

She  needed  some  comfort,  for  she  had  one  great 
sorrow.  The  gentle  and  loving  Dame  Amicia  dc 
Reviers,  who  had  watched  over  her  from  her  cradle,  was 
stricken  down  by  paralysis,  and  a  few  days  later  died. 
It  was  really  but  the  natural  end  of  a  long  and  happy 
life;  but  Emma,  in  the  mood  for  self-torture,  blamed 
herself  for  having  dragged  the  aged  dame  into  tumult 
and  terror,  and  shed  tears  that  were  beyond  the  usual 
bitterness  of  grief  She  was  buried  in  the  holy  precincts 
of  St.  Martin  at  Bayle,  which  stood  before  the  castle 
gate,  the  bi;siegers    granting    a    truce  for  the  occasion, 


284  THE  ORDEAL  BY  FIRE. 

with  that  chivalrous  courtesy  that  was  so  oddly  mixed 
with  the  ferocity  of  the  times. 

So  the  king's  men  and  the  earl's  met  in  friendly  sym- 
pathy one  day,  and  prepared  for  bitter  contest  on  the 
morrow,  when  the  besiegers  planned  to  make  assault 
upon  the  walls  themselves. 

Within  the  castle  all  was  bustle  and  business.  Harness 
was  mended  and  bullets  were  moulded,  bows  restrung 
and  arrows  feathered,  axes  and  swords  whirred  on  the 
grindstone,  huge  cauldrons  were  prepared  wherein  to 
heat  water  to  pour  upon  besiegers'  heads  ;  and  even 
the  countess  and  her  ladies  helped  to  carry  stones  with 
their  own  fair  hands,  and  pile  them  ready  for  the  use  of 
the  slingers. 

Meanwhile  the  swallows  wheeled  and  twittered  over- 
head as  they  wheel  and  twitter  now  ;  and  down  in  the 
woods  the  merles  and  mavises  sang  on  undisturbed  by 
the  tumult,  while  swans  were  marshalling  green-grey 
cygnets  across  the  pools  in  the  marshes  of  the  Cowhohne. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

A   SUBTERRANEAN   CONFLICT. 

The  besiegers  on  their  part  had  not  been  idle.  They 
had  established  quite  a  meiiagery  of  mechanical  con- 
trivances, rejoicing  in  the  zoological  names  of  tortoises, 
sows,  and  cats,  to  protect  their  approaches  to  the 
white  walls  of  Blauncheflour,  and  under  cover  of  these 
they  had  cut  a  channel  to  the  castle  ditch  and  drained 
the  water  from  it,  so  that  it  was  as  dry  as  at  present, 
though,  instead  of  growing  fair  greenery  of  bushes  and 
flowers,  it  showed  a  bottom  of  parched,  foetid  mud 
under  the  hot  summer  sun. 

They  had  thrown  up  large  mounds  of  earth  at 
intervals  around  the  ballium,  and  upon  these  had 
built  up  towers  of  wood  overtopping  the  walls.  These 
were  furnished  with  drawbridges  which  could  be  let 
down  at  pleasure  upon  the  merlons  of  the  battle- 
ments, so  to  give  ingress  to  their  men-at-arms  ;  their 
upper  storeys  serving  to  shelter  archers  and  slingers, 
while  from  the  lower,  battering-rams  were  sturdily 
plied,  and  the  warrewolvcs  flung  their  stones  and 
balls  of  lead. 

2S5 


286  A  SUBTERRANEAN  CONFLICT. 

These  towers  had  cost  them  many  good  lives,  for  not 
one  had  been  estabh'shed  without  a  fierce  struggle. 
Sally  after  sally  had  been  made  from  the  castle,  but, 
in  the  end,  numbers  prevailed,  and  at  last  their  imperti- 
nent wooden  crests  were  reared  above  the  Caen  stone 
of  Blauncheflour. 

Those  within  were,  however,  more  troubled  by  the 
mines  which  their  assailants  had  run  from  the  bottom 
of  the  moat  beneath  the  foundations  of  the  castle ;  for 
although  these  had  been  met  by  countermines,  and  many 
a  furious  combat  had  taken  place  in  these  uncanny  lists, 
each  mine  meant  a  point  to  be  guarded  with  jealous 
care,  and  was  a  source  of  weakness  and  anxiety  ;  de- 
manding exhausting  sentry  duty  from  the  already  over- 
burdened garrison. 

The  countess  found  her  office  of  Castellan  no  sinecure. 
The  motley  garrison  were  anything  but  homogeneous. 
All  manner  of  petty  jealousies,  personal  and  national, 
raged  among  them.  The  Normans  were  jealous  of  the 
Bretons,  and  the  Bretons  blustered  about  independence, 
boasting  that  they  were  'no  man's  men;'  while  the 
Saxons  hated  them  both,  and  regarded  their  refinements 
as  dandyisms  and  their  courtesies  as  cant;  and  the 
Normans  and  the  Bretons  both  looked  down  upon  the 
Saxons  as  savages,  and  gibed  at  their  priest-bestowed 
knighthood ;  so  that,  on  the  whole,  they  were  as  much 
inclined  to  fight  against  each  other  as  against  the  king's 
forces  outside  the  walls,  and  sometimes  actually  came 
to  blows. 

However,  the  countess  set  her  woman's  wit  to  weigh 


A  SUBTERRANEAN  CONFLICT.  287 

these  quarrelsome  gentlemen  against  each  other,  and 
managed  to  do  it,  owing  to  the  three-sidedness  of  the 
situation. 

After  all,  their  want  of  unity  had  its  advantages,  as 
they  never  '  went  solid '  in  any  direction,  except  under 
the  self-evident  necessity  of  defending  their  lives  and 
the  castle. 

Still,  at  times,  Emma  grew  very  weary,  and  almost 
failed  under  the  burden  she  had  taken  upon  her  slender 
shoulders,  feeling  terribly  feeble  and  lonely  and  out  of 
her  depth. 

Sir  Hoel  dc  St.  Brice  was  her  chiefest  comfort  and 
principal  counsellor.  The  old  knight  had  come  to 
regard  her  with  absolute  veneration  and  the  deepest 
affection,  and  in  him  she  felt  that  she  had  a  true  and 
sincere  friend. 

His  zeal  for  the  earl's  cause  nearly  equalled  her  own. 
To  say  that  he  would  have  given  his  life  for  it  would 
express  little,  for  all  in  the  garrison  were  formally 
pledged  to  do  that ;  but  he  had  no  other  object  in 
life. 

Emma  had  sought  the  earliest  opportunity  to  tell  him 
the  circumstances  under  which  she  had  discovered  the 
imprisonment  of  Sir  Aimand  dc  Sourdeval,  and  to 
repeat  his  account  of  the  foul  treatment  he  had  met 
with  from  De  Gourin. 

'  Unknightly ! '  he  had  said, — '  from  first  to  last 
unknightly.  But  what  would  you  have?  Can  a  man 
who  sells  his  lance  to  the  first  bidder,  without  inquiry 
into  the  justice  of  his  cause,  be  a  true  knight?'     Alto- 


288  A  SUBTERRANEAN  CONFLICT. 

gather  he  gave  evidence  of  shrewd  indignation,  but  no 
keen  surprise. 

'  I  love  not  the  mercenary,'  he  answered,  '  and  wish 
that  he  had  not  so  high  a  command  in  the  garrison. 
I  know  well  that  he  had  no  great  liking  for  the  young 
Norman  prudhomme,  whose  boyish  enthusiasms  were 
stronger  than  his  prudence,  and  led  him  to  throw  taunts 
at  Sir  Alain's  thick  head,  all  the  more  galling  that  they 
were  barbed  with  truth.' 

But  he  agreed  that,  under  the  circumstances,  it  was 
best  to  let  matters  stand  ;  De  Gourin  was  evidently  of 
the  same  opinion,  and,  save  for  a  few  veiled  gibes  at  the 
magnanimity  of  the  countess,  made  no  reference  to  the 
freeing  of  the  young  knight. 

Sir  Aimand,  for  his  part,  had  a  dismal  time  of  it,  and 
almost  wished  himself  back  in  his  dungeon,  securely 
chained  by  the  leg. 

As  soon  as  his  health  began  to  mend,  which  was 
speedily  enough,  under  the  combined  influences  of  good 
food,  good  air,  and  the  sight  of  his  lady's  face,  Eadgyth 
withdrew  that  last  and  sweetest  influence. 

For  she  was  determined  by  no  word  or  look  of  hers 
to  tempt  him  to  be  untrue  to  his  high  standard  of 
honour,  and  she  felt  on  her  own  part  more  Saxon  than 
ever,  and  judged  the  gulf  between  them  impassable,  save 
by  the  wreckage  of  the  ideals  of  both  ;  and  therefore 
she  deemed  that  to  bestow  her  company  upon  him 
would  be  but  cruel  kindness. 

So  the  poor  knight  mooned  about  in  solitary  medita- 
tion, and  his  returning  strength  made  inaction  a  verit- 


A  SUBTERRANEAN  CONFLICT.  2S9 

able  purgatory  to  him.  To  hear  blows  going,  and  have- 
no  hand  in  giving  or  taking  them,  was  truly  about  the 
cruellest  torture  that  could  have  been  invented  for  one 
of  his  order  and  temper  in  those  days  when  Christians 
still  thirsted  for  the  Valhalla  of  the  old  Norsemen, 
wherein  the  immortal  heroes  were  healed  of  their 
wounds  at  night  that  they  might  slay  each  other  over 
again  in  the  morning. 

Again  and  again  he  was  on  the  point  of  throwing 
his  scruples  to  the  wind,  and  buckling  on  sword  and 
helm  in  defence  of  the  generous  dame  who  had  given 
him  his  freedom  so  unconditionally.  Again  and  again 
he  restrained  himself,  and  did  penance  by  fasting  and 
prayer,  wishing  the  while  that  she  had  left  him  in 
durance,  so  he  had  escaped  such  doubting  and  search- 
ing of  heart. 

Nor  did  he  find  much  peace  in  Hall.  Norman, 
Breton,  and  Saxon  were  all  against  him.  Gibes  and 
jeers  were  his  portion.  They  called  him  the  '  ladies' 
tame  tiercel,'  the  '  gamecock  without  spurs,'  the 
'  dancing  bear,'  and  a  hundred  other  names  suggestive 
of  carpet-knight-errantry.  Then  his  fists  would  ball 
and  his  clear-cut,  high-bred  face  grow  white  with  anger, 
though  he  never  made  reply,  as  he  felt  it  an  evident 
point  of  honour  that,  being  a  prisoner  on  parole,  he 
might  neither  risk  his  own  person,  which  carried  value 
for  ransom,  nor  seek  to  injure  any  of  the  garrison. 

But  on  the  eve  of  the  assault,  when  the  countess  was 
holding  council  with  Sir  Hocl  dc  St.  Brice,  attended 
only  by  Eadgyth,  the  young  Norman  prayed  audience 


290  A  SUBTERRANEAN  CONFLICT. 

of  her,  and  on  its  being  granted  strode  into  the  chamber 
with  curiously  flashing  eyes. 

'  I  beseech  thee,  noble  Emma,  to  furnish  me  with  an 
helm  and  an  hauberk,  and  the  sharpest  sword  thou 
canst  spare  out  of  thine  armoury,  and  I  will  put  them 
to  a  good  use  in  thy  service,'  he  said,  with  speech  that 
was  rather  too  hasty  to  be  clear. 

'Hast  found  thy  senses  at  last,  brave  sir?'  demanded 
Sir  Hoel,  smiling  indulgently,  for  he  had  always  liked 
the  young  knight. 

But  Eadgyth  noticed  his  flushed  cheek  and  excited 
mien  with  a  chill  dread  at  her  heart.  Was  he  about  to 
be  false  to  the  noble  ideals  for  which  he  had  endured 
so  much,  or — saints  in  Heaven  forfend ! — did  his  ex- 
aggerated love  to  his  suzerain  lead  him  to  contemplate 
a  baser  falseness  still,  and  so  confuse  his  mind  that  he 
should  fancy  it  would  be  virtue  to  betray  the  castle  ? 
Her  cousin  Leofric  had  said  more  than  once,  that  only 
a  woman  playing  Castellan  would  be  so  imprudent  as 
to  allow  one  holding  so  invidious  a  position  as  did  De 
Sourdeval,  to  be  free  of  the  castle  and  aware  of  all  its 
secrets  ;  and  though  at  the  time  she  had  cried  shame 
on  his  mean  suspicions,  the  words  had  rested  in  her 
mind  with  the  burr-like  persistency  characteristic  of 
such  suggestions  of  evil. 

The  countess,  however,  looked  at  him  with  her  frank 
glad  eyes,  and  rejoiced,  for  she  had  always  hoped  that 
the  time  would  come  when  he  would  repay  her 
generosity  with  complete  allegiance,  and  she  was  about 
to  reply  unconditionally,  'Ay,  that  will  I.' 


A  SUBTERRANEAN  CONFLICT.  291 

But  before  she  could  speak,  Sir  Aimand  continued, 
'  I  ask  thee  more.  I  want  not  only  arms  for  myself, 
but  twenty  men  to  back  me.' 

Sir  Hocl  looked  grave,  and  lifted  his  bushy  white 
eyebrows  high  in  astonishment. 

'  Pick  men  of  whose  fidelity  you  are  assured,'  Sir 
Aimand  cried.  '  Let  Leofric  Ealdredsson  go  with  me. 
Thou  knowest  he  has  no  liking  for  me,  and  is  in  no 
way  in  collusion  with  me,  sith  there  is  race  hatred 
between  us  and  rivalry  in  love.' 

'  Rivalry  in  love!'  exclaimed  Emma,  turning  c^uickly 
to  Eadgyth,  and  the  cheeks  of  the  Saxon  maiden 
burned  scarlet  under  her  gaze,  but  not  more  redly  than 
those  of  the  knight,  who  had  exposed  his  jealousy 
unawares. 

'  I  should  not  have  said  rivalry,'  he  amended  hastily, 
'sith  I  have  no  claim.' 

Eadgyth  was  in  a  difficult  position.  If  she  made  the 
protest  her  heart  urged,  that  Leofric  was  her  cousin  and 
nothing  more,  and  never  could  be  more,  she  would  give 
Sir  Aimand  an  encouragement  which  was  cruel.  If  she 
did  not  make  it,  she  let  that  be  believed  which  she 
imagined  had  no  foundation  in  fact. 

Emma  saved  her  from  need  of  reply. 

'  Upon  the  honour  of  Leofric  Ealdredsson  I  can  rely,' 
she  said,  'whether  he  have  cause  to  like  or  mislike  thy 
person,  fair  knight.     What  more  hast  thou  to  ask  ? ' 

'  That  he,  with  twenty  of  his  stout  Anglo-Danes,  may 
be  put  under  my  guidance,  with  instructions  to  hew  me 
in  sunder  if  I   in  an}'  way  show  token  of  treachery.     I 


292  A  SUBTERRANEAN  CONFLICT. 

can  serve  thee  best  if  none  know  of  this  matter,  nor  the 
end  in  view,  save  Leofric  alone.  But  this  I  will  say  in 
explanation,  there  is  a  traitor  in  thy  camp,  and  I  would 
fain  foil  him.  I  cannot  fight  under  thy  banner,  noble 
countess,  but  it  accords  with  my  vow  of  chivalry  to  save 
thee  from  foul  betrayal.' 

'  Let  Leofric  Ealdredsson  be  summoned,  Sir  Hoel,' 
said  the  countess. 

And  in  the  end  De  Sourdeval  obtained  his  boon. 

Knowing  what  had  been  granted  to  the  Norman,  and 
that  Leofric  and  his  stout  carles  would  not  have  accepted 
service  under  him  unless  with  some  prospect  of  stiff 
work  to  follow,  Sir  Hoel  was  somewhat  surprised  to  see 
the  Anglo-Danes  linger  later  than  usual  over  the  wassail 
bowl  in  Hall  that  even,  seeing  too  that  on  the  morrow 
it  was  certain  that  shrewd  blows  would  be  going,  and  all 
heads  wanted  clear. 

Sir  Alain  de  Gourin  thought  fit  to  rebuke  them. 
'  For  as  thick  skulls  as  your  battle-axes  there  may 
boast,  Childe  Leofric,'  he  said,  '  they  had  best  have 
wakeful  wits  under  them  by  dawn.'  And  he  set  a 
worthy  example  by  leaving  the  revel. 

His  most  important  followers  slipped  after,  first  one 
and  then  another,  but  still  the  Vikings  drank  on,  and 
Sir  Hoel  began  to  have  queer  doubts  of  the  wisdom  of 
granting  the  whimsical  De  Sourdeval  control  over  such 
a  crew,  and  determined  to  watch  them  out. 

Presently  in  came  Sir  Aimand,  wrapped  in  a  long 
cloak,  with  a  hood  over  his  head,  and  whispered  to 
Leofric, — 


A  SUBTERRANEAN  CONFLICT.  293 

'  The  big  rat  has  gone  into  his  hole.' 

And  Leofric  wagged  his  yellow  beard  approvingly, 
and  rose  up,  tall  and  strong,  with  a  rattle  of  mail  and 
bracelets,  and  took  his  great  two-handed  axe  and  strode 
with  De  Sourdeval  out  of  the  hall ;  and  Sir  Hotil  saw 
that  under  De  Sourdeval's  cloak  was  a  mail  hauberk 
and  steel  headpiece. 

Then  one  after  another  the  Anglo-Danes  picked 
themselves  out  of  the  rushes,  whither  they  had  subsided 
to  save  the  trouble  of  falling,  and  went  out  also,  with 
strange  steadiness  for  tipsy  men. 

And  De  Sourdeval  led  Leofric  to  a  mine  that  had 
been  run  to  meet  one  dug  by  the  enemy  on  the  north- 
west side  of  the  castle,  near  the  chiefest  of  the  wall 
towers,  and  two  dozen  good  men  and  true  were  at  their 
back. 

They  went  down  into  the  darkness,  dimly  lighted 
with  rude  lanterns,  and  they  found  the  watch  were  one 
and  all  Breton  mercenaries.  These  one  after  another 
they  stealthily  seized,  gagged  before  they  could  make 
outcry,  bound,  and  carried  up  into  the  outer  air,  setting 
their  own  men  in  their  stead.  Then  they  crouched 
down  and  waited  at  the  extremity  of  the  mine,  where  it 
met  the  Norman  parallels. 

And  after  a  while  they  heard  sounds  approaching. 
The  clink  and  chink  of  weapons  and  mail  and  the 
muffled  beat  of  creeping  footsteps. 

'  Remember — Sir  Alain  to  me,'  hissed  De  Sourdeval 
in  a  hoarse  whisper, — '  Sir  Alain  and  his  traitors.  I 
strike  no  blow  ac^ainst  the  king's  true  men.' 


294  A  SUBTERRANEAN  CONFLICT. 

'  By  Odin  !  all's  fish  that  comes  to  my  net.  Breton 
or  Norman,  what  have  they  to  do  in  Harold's  Norwich  ? ' 
returned  Leofric  savagely.  'But  I'll  not  poach  on  thy 
manors.     Sir  Alain  to  thee.' 

Two  minutes  later,  the  Breton  mercenary,  leading  the 
foe  with  whom  he  had  traitorously  compounded  to  save 
his  own  skin,  was  startled  to  meet  the  fierce  white  face 
of  Sir  Aimand  instead  of  the  friendly  countenance  of 
one  of  his  own  ruffians. 

'Ha!  caught  in  thine  own  burrow,  despicable  rat!' 
shouted  the  Norman,  and  the  next  moment  they 
were  hewing  at  each  other  with  the  fury  of  a  long 
hatred. 

De  Gourin  had  the  disadvantage  of  surprise,  and  he 
lost  his  head  and  struck  wildly.  De  Sourdeval  got 
within  his  guard,  and  the  next  moment  the  Breton  rolled 
heavily  to  earth. 

Over  his  dead  body  waged  a  fierce  battle,  but  it  was 
not  maintained  for  long.  The  besiegers,  expecting  to 
be  led  straight  into  the  heart  of  the  castle,  were  not 
prepared  for  the  determined  resistance  they  met  with 
thus  at  the  outset,  and  credited  the  Bretons  with 
decoying  them  into  a  trap.  The  latter  were  therefore 
the  chief  combatants,  for  their  case  was  desperate. 
They  were  between  two  foes,  and  scarce  one  of 
them  escaped  alive ;  nor  did  Sir  Aimand  find  any 
great  difficulty  in  keeping  his  vow  to  deal  with  them 
alone. 

So  Sir  Aimand  slew  his  enemy  in  the  bowels  of  the 
earth  ;  the  man  through  whose  treachery  he  had  been 


A  SUBTERRANEAN  CONFLICT.  295 

forced  to  live  for  so  many  long  clays  as  deeply  buried 
from  the  free  air  and  cheerful  light  of  day.  Yet  the 
personal  quarrel  was  merged  in  a  greater  cause,  and  in 
revenging  his  own  wrong  he  was  saving  the  brave 
Countess  Emma  and  the  lady  of  his  love,  with  all  the 
womanhood  in  the  castle,  from  the  horrors  of  a  sudden 
sack. 

When  the  garrison  heard  of  this  feat  which  '  the 
ladies'  tame  tiercel'  and  'the  Danish  wolf  had  carried 
through  between  them,  the  enthusiasm  knew  no  bounds, 
and  the  curses  and  maledictions  that  were  poured  on 
the  senseless  head  of  the  treacherous  Breton  knew  no 
bounds  either,  till  Sir  Aimand  said, — 

'  The  greater  his  sins,  the  greater  need  we  pray 
for  him,'  and  ordered  masses  for  the  dead  man's  soul 
at  his  own  expense,  so  putting  bitter  tongues  to 
shame. 

The  countess  came  down  into  the  great  hall  and  met 
the  heroes  of  the  hour  with  shining  eyes  and  heartfelt 
thanks  ;  but,  to  say  truth,  they  were  both  more  anxious 
for  kind  glances  and  sweet  praise  from  her  Saxon 
bower-maiden,  and  their  eyes  went  round  the  hall  in 
search  of  her.  But  she  was  not  there  ;  she  had  slipped 
away  to  ask  the  chaplain  to  set  her  penances  for  having 
entertained  suspicions  of  an  innocent  person. 

Perhaps  none  felt  deeper  indignation  against  the 
foiled  traitor  than  those  of  the  Breton  mercenaries  whom 
he  had  not  included  in  his  band  of  deserters.  If  his 
plot  had  been  successful,  they  would  probably  have 
suffered  most  of  all  in  the  garrison,  for  mercenaries  are 


-96  A  SUBTERRANEAN  CONFLICT. 

rolling  stones  who  make  enemies  wherever  they  go,  and 
whose  services  being  paid  for  in  cash  and  plunder,  win 
no  gratitude  even  from  those  they  defend.  They  knew 
well  that  if  the  besiegers  got  the  upper  hand,  it  would 
go  hard  with  them. 

Therefore  they  stood  aghast  when  they  heard  of  the 
treachery  of  their  leader  and  of  those  of  their  comrades 
who  had  been  with  him,  feeling  that  treachery  to  be  in 
a  manner  twofold  towards  themselves.  They  gathered 
round  De  Sourdeval  asking  eager  questions. 

'  How  had  he  discovered  the  plot  ?  Had  he  known 
it  long?  What  proofs  had  he  to  support  his  asser- 
tion ? ' 

To  which  he  made  reply  that  he  had  not  known  it 
long,  only  an  hour  or  two  before  his  counterplot  was 
framed  and  executed,  and  it  had  come  to  his  knowledge 
in  this  wise.  A  certain  soldier  in  De  Gourin's  band  had 
been  Sir  Aimand's  warder  during  his  imprisonment  in 
the  dungeons  of  the  castle,  and  it  seemed  that  the  man 
had  conceived  a  great  affection  for  him.  Being  one  of 
the  sentries  whose  duty  it  was  to  guard  the  mine,  he 
had  received  instructions  from  De  Gourin  to  admit  the 
king's  troops,  and  was  perforce  made  privy  to  the 
nefarious  designs  of  the  leader. 

Believing  De  Sourdeval  to  be  hostile  to  the  garrison, 
and  wishing  to  do  him  a  good  turn,  he  had  told 
him  of  the  scheme  on  hand,  and  had  undertaken  to 
procure  a  disguise  for  him,  so  that  he  might  pass 
out  amid  De  Gourin's  band.  The  man  would  tell 
them    the    story    himself;    he    now    lay    bound    in    the 


A  SUBTERRANEAN  CONEI.ICT.  2C)7 

courtyard   of  the   castle  with    the  rest    of  the    Breton 
sentries. 

The  next  day  Sir  Ainiand  returned  to  the  countess 
the  arms  with  which  she  had  provided  him  fronn  the 
castle  armoury,  holding  fast  to  his  resolution  not  to 
bear  them  against  the  king's  forces. 


CHAPTER   XXIII. 

HOW   OLIVER   DIED. 

But  there  was  little  time  for  asking  questions  and 
making  inquiries,  or  for  celebrating  the  exploits  of 
heroes,  Norman  or  Anglo-Dane. 

The  morning  light  was  creeping  up  the  east,  and  the 
chirp  and  twitter  of  wakening  sparrows  was  the  signal 
for  the  battering-rams  and  pickers  to  commence  their 
ominous  clatter. 

The  attack  was  made  at  several  points  simultaneously; 
and  all  the  strength  of  the  garrison,  weakened  as  it 
was  by  the  losses  of  a  month  of  strife,  was  needed  on 
the  walls. 

From  every  loophole  the  archers  and  slingers  aimed 
whizzing  arrows  and  hurtling  stones  upon  the  columns 
of  the  assailants,  and  from  between  the  merlons  great 
sacks  of  wool  and  horsehair  w^ere  suspended  to  protect 
the  walls  from  the  battering-rams,  while  huge  logs  of 
timber  w^ere  hurled  upon  the  pickers.  Molten  lead  and 
boiling  water  was  poured  down  upon  the  heads  of  the 
besiegers  like  a  veritable  hell-rain. 

But  for  all  their  efforts  the  assault  made  pro- 
gress.      In    two    distinct     places     the    walls    were    so 

29S 


HOW  OLIVER  DIED.  299 

battered  that  horsemen  could  have  ridden  through  the 
breach. 

The  garrison  did  their  best  to  throw  up  earthworks 
inside  the  broken  walls,  and  fought  valiantly  to  defend 
them,  sallying  forth  at  intervals  with  the  impetus  of 
men  who  felt  their  case  desperate. 

But  the  besiegers  fought  with  fury  also.  They  were 
weary  of  dallying  week  after  week  before  the  walls  of 
a  castle  which  was  under  the  command  of  a  woman, 
and  were  determined  to  get  the  mastery,  if  energy  and 
valour  could  accomplish  it. 

The  countess,  mounting  tlie  battlements  of  the  keep 
one  day,  that  she  might  sec  for  herself  the  working 
of  the  mighty  engines  which  were  plied  against  her 
stronehold,  had  seen  ICarl  William  de  Warrenne  and 
Robert  Malet  standing  together  in  one  of  the  wooden 
towers  already  described.  As  she  bent  forward  to  look 
below,  a  stone  from  a  petronel  struck  the  wall  not  far 
beneath  her,  and  the  fragments  and  dust  flew  into 
her  face  and  upon  the  wall  on  which  her  hand  had 
rested. 

Her  noble  adversaries,  who  were  watching  her,  could 
not  repress  an  exclamation  of  dismay  at  this ;  but 
Emma,  without  blenching,  took  her  kerchief  from  her 
gipsire  and  nonchalantly  dusted  the  walls  with  it. 

'You  do  well   to    fight   a    housewife  with   dust,   fair 
■  sirs!'    she   cried,   sending   a    mocking   peal    of  silver)- 
laughter  to  follow  her  words. 

Such  taunts  were  not  unheeded   or  forgiven.     They 
helped   to   nerve  the   leaders  who   led  the  attack ;  and 


300  HOW  OLIVER  DIED. 

they  were  men  who  were  accustomed  to  lead  their  men 
to  victory.  On  this  day  the  chequered  shield  of  Earl 
Warrenne  pressed  forward  as  if  it  were  possessed  of 
magic  powers,  which  made  it  proof  against  every  blow, 
and  wherever  it  went  it  had  eager  followers ;  while 
young  Robert  Malet  showed  himself  the  worthy  son  of 
his  great  father.  As  for  the  Bishop  of  Coutances,  he 
contented  himself  with  blessing  the  column  before  it 
started,  and  reminding  the  soldiers  that  the  brother 
of  the  Countess  Emma  was  an  excommunicated 
man. 

Earl  Warrenne  strained  every  nerve  to  make  the 
assault  a  success.  He  led  his  men  in  person  to  the 
breach ;  and  his  strong  voice  dominated  the  tumult 
with  trumpet  tones,  as  he  cried,  '  Dex  aie !  For  William 
the  Norman  ! ' 

'  A  Warrenne  !  a  Warrenne !  '  responded  his  men,  as 
they  struggled  forward  over  the  counter-scarp,  under  a 
pelting  hail  of  arrows  and  javelins  from  the  battle- 
ments. 

Within  the  breach  stood  Leofric  Ealdredsson,  holding 
his  great  double-edged  axe  in  his  hand,  with  his  men 
arranged  in  a  Saxon  wedge,  the  front  row  kneeling, 
with  shield  touching  shield,  and  a  forest  of  spears 
bristling  out  above  them,  like  the  spines  of  a  porcupine. 
They  answered  the  Norman  battle-cry  with  a  wild 
shout  that  made  the  walls  ring  again,  and  echoed  up 
the  sides  of  the  keep  behind  them,  '  Ahoi !  ahoi !  A 
Guader !  a  Guader ! '  otherwise  they  were  motionless 
as  statues. 


0 

a 

o 
•A 


o 


a 
3 


HO IV  OLIVER  DIED.  301 

Earl  Warrenne  had  won  experience  of  that  formation 
at  Hastings,  and  he  well  knew  how  invulnerable  it  was, 
and  how  the  terrible  seaxes  could  crash  through  helm 
and  hauberk.  He  knew  how  stratagem  alone  had 
prevailed  over  it ;  how  pretended  flight  had  cheated 
the  Saxons  into  pursuit,  and  how  they  had  so  foregone 
their  advantage ;  and  he  determined  to  employ  the 
same  device  again. 

So  he  leapt  his  horse  in  over  the  shattered  wall,  and 
his  men-at-arms  followed  him,  but  spent  their  force  in 
vain  on  the  living  rampart  before  them  ;  more  than  one 
reeled  with  cleft  helmet  from  the  saddle,  and  Warrenne 
himself  wavered  and  turned. 

Seeing  their  leader  give  way,  the  band  broke  and 
pressed  tumultuously  back  over  the  temporary  draw- 
bridge thrown  across  the  waterless  moat  for  their  use ; 
and  Leofric  and  his  men  sprang  forward  to  pursue 
them. 

Then  Warrenne  turned  again  w  ith  a  fierce  rallying 
cry,  and  his  knights,  used  to  strict  discipline,  and 
instantly  understanding  his  aim,  turned  with  him,  and, 
as  at  Hastings,  the  advantage  was  won.  It  was  a 
hazardous  experiment,  but  it  had  succeeded. 

Man  to  man  the  battleaxes  and  spearmen  were  no 
match  for  the  mailed  and  mounted  Normans.  The 
struggle  was  bitter.  Horses  and  knights,  Normans 
and  English,  fell  cursing  and  kicking  from  the  bridge 
into  the  moat.  But  Earl  Warrenne,  with  a  bevy  of 
knights  at  his  heels,  made  their  way  through  the 
breach,   penetrating  into  the  courtyard   of  the   castle ; 


302  HO IV  OLIVER  DIED. 

while  Leofric  lay  senseless  on  the  bridge,  with  his 
yellow  curls  dangling  over  the  edge,  streaked  with 
crimson,  and  dripping  red  drops  into  the  gulf  below. 

So  the  king's  men  had  made  their  way  within  the 
walls  of  Blauncheflour,  after  two  months  of  strong 
endeavour;  and  the  sight  of  Warrenne's  chequered 
banner  inside  the  defences  they  had  held  so  man- 
fully brought  terror  into  the  hearts  of  the  besieged. 
Their  unnerved  arms  struck  feeble  blows;  and  the 
king's  knights  rode  them  down,  driving  them  to  the 
very  stairway  of  the  great  entrance  to  the  donjon 
keep. 

All  at  once,  from  above  their  heads  came  a  clear 
voice  like  a  clarion, — 

'  St.  Nicholas  for  Guader !  A  Guader !  a  Guader ! 
Shall  your  lord  come  back,  and  find  his  castle  lost  ? ' 

There,  on  the  platform  before  the  grand  entrance, 
stood  a  white-robed  figure,  with  uplifted  arms  and  a 
wildly  shining  face,  which  set  the  half-pagan  Anglo- 
Danes  thinking  of  Valkyries  and  Norns,  and  the  Bretons 
and  Normans  of  angels  and  saints  ;  but  when  they 
recognised  the  face  of  Emma  the  countess,  they 
shouted  a  mighty  shout,  and  the  blood  came  back 
into  their  hearts  with  a  great  glow  of  determination, 
and  they  rushed  once  more  fiercely  against  their 
assailants. 

'  I  am  here  to  see  how  bravely  you  maintain  his  cause 
in  his  absence  ! '  cried  Emma  from  the  portal. 

Then  the  knights  mixed  in  the  wild  iiuice  at  her 
feet     while  the  king's  archers  shot  their  whizzing  shafts 


HOW  OLIVER  DIED.  303 

from  the  wooden  towers,  and  the  king's  sHngcrs  hurled 
their  leaden  balls  and  stones,  fighting  the  men  who 
upheld  the  East  Anglian  banners  on  the  walls.  Whether 
or  no  every  arrow  had  its  billet,  as  it  is  said  every 
bullet  has  in  modern  days,  many  an  arrow  flew  far 
beyond  the  men  at  whom  it  was  aimed,  and  whistled 
down  into  the  courtyard. 

As  the  besieged  knights  looked  for  inspiration  to 
their  beloved  Chatelaine,  brimming  over  with  the  strong 
desire  to  distinguish  themselves  before  her  eyes,  they 
saw  a  cloth-yard  shaft  fly  straight  to  her  white  figure, 
and  strike  the  tender  form  they  were  burning  to 
protect,  marring  it  with  a  crimson  streak.  A  great 
howl  of  rage  rose  up  against  the  sky,  and  the 
passion  of  vengeance  nerved  their  arms  with  furious 
force. 

They  sprang  at  the  foe,  who  had  also  seen  the 
arrow  strike  its  mark,  and  had  paused  a  moment 
in  chivalrous  horror,  and  so  were  unprepared  to  meet 
the  onslaught.  Thus  the  tide  of  battle  turned  once 
more,  and  l'2arl  Warrenne  and  his  followers  were 
driven  out  through  the  breach  by  which  they  had 
entered. 

Then,  when  the  knights  of  the  garrison  rode  back  in 
grievous  haste  to  satisfy  their  anxiety  for  their  lord's 
bride,  the  countess  still  sood  before  the  portal,  laughing, 
though  the  arrow  stuck  in  her  arm. 

'See!'  she  said,  'it  is  nothing!  Only  a  flesh- 
wound.     I  have  leeched  a  hundred  worse.' 

The    Normans    and    the    Bretons    and    the    Saxons 


304  HOW  OLIVER  DIED. 

all  joined  in  tumultuous  cheers,  and  vowed  to  save 
their  countess  and  their  castle  if  they  died  to  the  last 
man, 

'  Mevci !  brave  hearts!'  cried  the  countess.  'That 
was  well  spoken  I  Holy  Mary  grant  my  lord  may 
relieve  us  ere  many  days  are  past ! ' 

Then  they  entreated  her  to  have  her  wound  looked 
to ;  and  she  swept  away  to  the  spital,  and  there  had 
the  arrow  cut  out  of  her  white  arm,  so  all  her  wounded 
warriors  might  see ;  and  the  legend  of  her  unflinching 
courage  spread  like  wildfire  through  the  garrison,  and 
even  into  the  camp  of  the  besiegers  without. 

'By  St.  Michael!'  cried  Robert  Malet,  'these 
rebels  seem  to  have  the  knack  of  coining  heroines. 
Thou  and  my  father,  Earl  Warrenne,  had  shrewd 
experience  of  Hereward's  witch  of  a  wife  in  the 
Fenlands  by  Ely,  —  how  she  wound  up  the  wild 
galliards  her  husband  got  to  follow  him  with  her 
sorceries  and  incantations  till  they  were  at  the  point 
of  madness !  Sooth,  methinks  we  have  to  deal  with 
such  another.' 

Then  Leofric  Ealdredsson,  who  had  been  carried  into 
the  camp,  and  lay  within  earshot,  raised  himself  up  and 
swore  mightily. 

*  No  witch  was  Torfrida,'  he  cried  in  anger,  '  but 
as  true  and  noble  a  woman  as  ever  God  made !  So 
truly  is  De  Guader's  countess,  Norman  though  she 
be!' 

At  which  the  king's  captains  laughed,  and  turned  to 
Leofric. 


HOW  OLIVER  DIED. 


J"-' J 


'Ay!  thou  wast  one  of  that  pestilent  Hcreward's 
most  saucy  upholders,  I  well  remember;  and  now 
thou  art  leader  in  this  hornet's  nest  also,  I  trow ! '  said 
Earl  William.  '  Dost  thou  know  the  mark  we  are  bid 
to  set  on  all  our  prisoners  in  this  affair,  to  the  end 
that  we  may  recognise  them  again  when  we  meet 
them  ? ' 

'  Do  your  worst,  usurping  couards ! '  answered  the 
furious  Anglo-Dane.  'When  Sweyn  Ulfsson  follows 
De  Guader  home,  and  claims  his  own,  and  drives  the 
tanner's  grandson  from  the  throne  he  has  stolen, 
he  will  put  Ins  mark  on  you  in  return,  I  warrant 
me!' 

Malet's  face  grew  dark  ;  for  William  himself  and 
William's  followers  resented  no  insult  so  deeply  as  an\- 
allusion  to  the  honest  fell-monger  of  Falaise. 

But  Earl  Warrenne  was  too  wise  to  quarrel  with  a 
wounded  man,  and  said  good-humouredly, — 

''Twould  be  a  pity  to  lop  a  limb  from  so  fine  a 
warrior  as  thyself,  noble  Leofric.  Perhaps  some  excep- 
tion can  be  made  in  this  case.  We  are  told  that  Sir 
Aimand  de  Sourdeval  is  detained  in  Blauncheflour 
against  his  will,  and  that  he  is  faithful  to  the  king.  If 
that  be  so,  an  exchange  might  be  effected.' 

Leofric,  who  did  not  relish  the  prospect  of  having 
his  right  foot  hewed  off,  courageous  as  he  was,  gasped 
for  joy  at  this  proposition.  It  meant  even  more  to 
him  than  escape  from  cripplehood  for  life  ;  it  meant 
that  he  would  regain  entrance  into  Blauncheflour, 
and    be    near    the    fair    cousin    who    had  become    dear 

U 


3o6  HOW  OLIVER  DIED. 

to    his    heart,    and     that    his    rival    would     be     parted 
from  her. 

'  That  is  true,'  he  said  eagerly.  '  The  knight  is  there, 
and  has  refused  to  strike  a  blow  against  the  king's 
troops.' 

Meanwhile  the  sun  was  sinking  in  the  sky,  and  with 
night  came  partial  cessation  of  hostilities.  The  besieged 
were  holding  council  as  to  what  step  should  next  be 
taken,  but  the  counsellors  had  dwindled  in  number.  Sir 
Alain  de  Gourin  was  no  longer  there  with  his  purple 
face  and  blatant  ways,  but  he  could  be  better  spared 
than  Leofric,  and  than  several  others  who  had  fallen 
during  the  month. 

'We  cannot  hold  the  walls  another  day,'  said  Sir 
Hoel  sadly ;  '  there  is  nothing  for  it  but  to  retire 
into  the  keep.  It  will  take  them  some  time  to 
dislodge  us  from  thence  ;  the  masonry  is  solid  as  the 
earth.' 

'And  time  is  all  we  need!'  exclaimed  the  countess 
eagerly.  She  was  very  pale,  and  had  her  arm  in 
bandages,  but  her  eyes  were  bright  with  fever  and 
determination,  and  she  insisted  on  taking  her  part  in  the 
discussion.     '  My  lord  must  soon  be  here.' 

'We  may  hold  the  keep  for  months,'  said  a  knight. 

'  Yes,  if  manna  would  fall  from  heaven,'  suggested 
another  jestingly  ;  '  else  I  fear  we  must  needs  eat  each 
other  ere  many  moons  had  waned.' 

'Gentlemen,'  said  Sir  Hotil  gravely,  'there  is  a  means 
by  which  we  may  increase  our  supplies  a  shade  less 
desperate  than  that.' 


HOW  OLIVER  DIED.  307 

The  countess  turned  to  him  with  anxious  curiosity. 
Sir  Hoel  continued, — 

'  We  cannot  stable  all  our  horses  in  the  keep,  some 
must  be  sacrificed  ;  better  we  kill  them  with  our  own 
good  swords,  and  salt  their  flesh,  than  let  the  king's  men 
have  them.  Horse-flesh  may  not  be  palatable,  but  at 
least  it  would  be  better  fare  than  picking  each  other's 
bones.  Relief  may  come  before  we  need  fall  back  on 
such  provender.     Still,  it  will  be  there.' 

A  sick  shudder  of  horror  passed  through  Emma's 
heart.     Was  famine  indeed  so  near  ? 

The  faces  of  the  knights  grew  serious.  No  man 
stood  forward  to  proffer  his  own  steed  for  the  sacrifice. 
More  than  one  gave  evidence,  by  trembling  lip  and 
quickened  breathing,  of  the  hardness  of  the  trial.  For 
those  mailed  warriors  were  a  centaur  race.  Their  steeds 
were  almost  a  part  of  themselves.  Their  lives  were 
constantly  hanging  on  the  qualities  of  their  mounts.  A 
hard  mouth  or  a  nervous  temper  might  bring  them 
their  death  any  day,  and  docility  and  nimble  limbs  be 
their  safeguard.  The  horse  became  a  trusted  friend, 
and  a  champion's  destrier  was  often  as  celebrated  as 
himself. 

The  countess's  lip  trembled  also,  and  her  cheeks  grew 
even  paler  than  before,  while  her  heart  throbbed  in  cruel 

doubt. 

For  was  not  Oliver,  the  earl's  noble  Spanish  war- 
horse,  in  the  castle?  Had  she  not  visited  him  morning 
and  night,  and  seen  with  her  own  eyes  that  he  had  his 
due  ration  of  corn,  and  that  his  satin  skin  was  sleek  as 


3o8  NOJV  OLIVER  DIED. 

grooming  could  make  it?  Had  she  not  patted  his 
splendid  neck  morn  and  night,  and  plaited  his  thick 
mane,  and  had  his  velvet  nose  thrust  into  her  soft  palms 
for  an  apple  or  a  wastel  cake  ?  She  knew  how  the  earl 
loved  the  creature,  and  had  misliked  leaving  him  behind, 
and  she  herself  loved  him  both  for  his  master's  sake  and 
for  his  own.  He  seemed  to  her  half  human  as  she 
thought  of  his  intelligent  eyes,  and  the  clear,  soft  neigh, 
musical  as  the  whistle  of  a  blackbird,  with  which  he  was 
wont  to  greet  her,  and  a  sob  caught  her  breath  as  she 
thought  of  condemning  him  to  death.  She  knew  also 
that  he  was  worth  his  weight  in  gold. 

Yet  to  sacrifice  him  seemed  to  her  a  clear  duty,  as 
she  looked  round  the  circle  of  reluctant  men  about  her. 
They  would  never  ask  it,  she  knew.  Some  few  horses 
would  be  kept,  and  the  earl's  destrier  amongst  them,  as  a 
matter  of  course  ;  but  she  remembered  how  she  had 
heard  it  told  of  William  the  Conqueror,  that  when,  on 
his  march  on  Chester,  his  men,  weary  with  labour  and 
cold,  begged  him  to  let  them  go  back,  he  dismounted 
and  went  afoot  to  encourage  them,  and  shared  all  their 
hardships.  Was  her  lord  a  less  generous  knight  than 
William?  A  thousand  times  no!  If  he  were  in 
Blauncheflour,  he  would  be  the  first  to  lead  the  sacrifice. 
As  he  was  absent,  she  must  do  it  for  him.  These 
thoughts  flashed  through  her  mind  in  a  moment,  though 
they  are  long  to  write. 

'  Thou  art  right,  Sir  Hoel,'  she  said  in  a  steady  voice. 
'  'Tis  like  killing  a  child  for  a  knight  to  kill  his  steed,  I 
well  understand.     Yet  it  is  but  wisdom  as  we  are  cir- 


HOW  OLIVER  DIED.  309 

cumstanced,  and  I  make  no  doubt  if  my  lord  were  here, 
he  would  be  the  first  to  make  the  sacrifice.  Therefore 
I  beg  thee,  dear  Sir  Hoel,' — she  laid  her  left  hand  on  his 
arm,  and  would  have  put  the  other  with  it,  had  it  not 
been  stiffened  with  bandages,  and  looked  into  his  face 
with  her  clear,  brave  eyes,  very  pathetic  now,  with  heavy 
rings  of  blue  round  them,  and  thin,  wan  cheeks  beneath, 
— '  I  beg  thee,  dear  Sir  Hoel,  despatch  my  lord's  destrier 
with  thine  own  blade,  and  see  that  he  suffer  no  needless 
pain.' 

A  chorus  of  protests  burst  from  the  knights  ;  not 
a  man  but  offered  his  steed  to  save  Oliver ;  but  the 
countess  said  hastily,  '  Attend  to  my  behest,  I  pray 
thee,  Sir  Hoel ! '  and  hurried  from  the  room. 

She  went  to  her  bower,  where  Eadgyth  was  awaiting 
her.  She  had  not  trusted  any  of  her  ladies  to  attend 
her  in  her  council  -  chamber,  lest  their  courage  should 
give  way,  and  so  weaken  her  influence  over  the  knights. 
Now,  when  she  met  Eadgyth's  look  oi  tender  inquiry, 
and  felt  her  caressing  arms  round  her,  she  was  overcome 
herself.  She  dropped  her  poor  weary  head  on  Eadgyth's 
shoulder  and  wept — wept  as  she  had  never  done  in  her 
life  before — no,  not  even  in  the  chapel  through  that  long 
sad  night  when  she  believed  herself  a  widow ;  for  her 
fresh  young  strength  was  in  its  prime  then,  and  now  she 
was  weakened  physically  by  the  strain  of  continued 
anxiety  and  the  acute  pain  of  her  wounded  arm. 

The  storm  of  sobs  was  so  long  and  violent,  that 
Eadgyth,  w4io  had  scarcely  ever  seen  her  cry,  was  sore 
afraid.     She  dreaded  tliat  some  fell  disaster  had  befallen. 


3 1  o  HOW  OLIVER  DIED. 

But  she  was  a  good  comforter  ;  she  did  not  tease  with 
questions,  she  only  pressed  her  friend  fondly  to  her,  and 
kissed  and  caressed  her  till  she  grew  calmer. 

'  Oh,  Eadgyth,'  said  the  countess  at  length, 'they  are 
going  to  kill  the  horses,  and  Ralph's  destrier  must  die. 
The  dear  Oliver  ! ' 

To  Eadgyth  this  reason  for  such  excessive  grief 
seemed  almost  absurd,  and  her  blue  eyes  opened 
widely. 

'  Oh,  I  am  a  poor  weak  fool  ! '  said  Emma,  drawing 
away,  'to  break  down  so  utterly.  But  my  arm  aches 
shrewdly,  Eadgyth,  and  I  am  not  used  to  pain.' 

She  threw  herself  upon  the  embroidered  bed,  tears 
rolling  silently  down  her  cheeks. 

'  Poor  sweet ! '  said  Eadgyth.  '  I  do  not  marvel  that 
even  thy  wonderful  spirit  should  yield  to  nature.  This 
day  has  been  fearful  indeed.' 

'Why  does  not  Ralph  come?  Why  does  he  not 
come?'  exclaimed  Emma,  covering  her  face  with  her 
slender  hands,  wliich  had  grown  so  thin  that  she  could 
scarce  keep  on  her  wedding  ring.  '  My  heart  is  full  of 
fears,  Eadgyth.  I  dreamt  of  him  last  night,  ill  and 
sorrowful,  tossing  on  a  bed  of  fever.  He  was  ill  when 
he  went  away,  his  wounds  half- healed.  It  is  all  doubt 
and  dread — and  horror  ! ' 

'  Ah,  Christ  have  mercy  upon  us  ! '  said  Eadgyth,  who 
was  kneeling  beside  the  bed. 

'  I  dare  not  ask  for  mercy,'  said  Emma  piteously.  '  I 
am  fighting  in  a  wrong  cause  !  Thy  Sir  Aimand  said  it. 
I   have   brought   all   this  woe  and  suffering  on  the  man 


HO  W  OLIVER  DIED.  3 1 ' 

who  loved  me,  and  on  those  who  love  him  and  follow 
him,  like  leal  knights  and  true ! ' 

'  Oh,  do  not  torment  yourself  with  such  thoughts, 
sweet  heart !  Surely  it  was  no  wrong  cause  to  strive 
with  the  oppressor  of  this  wretched  land, — he  whose 
minions  were  killing  the  heart  out  of  his  victims  with 
every  species  of  wrong  and  outrage  ! ' 

The  tears  were  running  swiftly  enough  down  Eadgyth's 
cheeks  now. 

'  Alas  !  '  said  Emma,  '  I  fear  we  thought  less  of  that 
than  of  our  own  revenge  and  ambition.' 

'  But  how  couldst  thou  have  helped  it  ? ' 

'  I  might  have  helped  it.  I  might  have  refused  to 
marry  against  the  king's  command,  and  gone  into  a 
convent,  and  then  the  bride-ale  would  never  have  been, 
nor  its  direful  following.' 

'  Perchance  it  had  been  better,'  said  Eadgyth  thought- 
fully. 

'  No,  it  would  not  have  been  better!'  cried  Emma, 
starting  up,  impatient  at  Eadgyth's  acquiescence  ;  she 
had  given  her  scruples  voice  that  they  might  be  com- 
bated, not  confirmed.  '  I  would  go  through  it  all  again 
and  more  to  be  Ralph's  wife,  and  I  am  a  contemptible 
coward,  a  iiodii/g,  to  be  puling  here  because  niy  roses 
are  not  thornless,  when  I  might  be  helping  to  keep  m)' 
hero's  castle  for  him  !  ' 

She  sprang  from  the  bed,  aiul  insisted  on  going  to 
the  spital  to  leech  the  day's  wounded,  though  Eadgyth 
told  her  that  >hc  needed  leeching  far  more  sorelx' 
herself 


312  HOW  OLIVER  DIED. 

Yet  in  ail  her  self-abandonment  she  had  spared 
Eadgyth,  and  had  not  told  her  that  they  were  to  be 
imprisoned  in  the  keep  from  that  day  forth,  nor  that  her 
cousin  Leofric  Ealdredsson  was  dead  or  in  the  hands  of 
the  enemy. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

FAMINE. 

When  the  besiegers  attacked  the  walls  of  Blaunche- 
flour  on  the  morning  following,  they  found  them 
undefended,  and  took  possession  with  shouts  and 
jubilation. 

The  besieged,  sheltered  behind  the  strong  ramparts 
of  the  keep,  felt  much  as  shipwrecked  mariners,  who, 
from  the  present  safety  of  some  rocky  islet,  watch  the 
rising  of  the  tide,  knowing  that  their  lives  depend  upon 
the  height  to  which  the  shining  water  will  attain, — 
unless  indeed  some  friendly  vessel  come  to  the  rescue 
and  carry  them  off. 

The  hope  of  the  imprisoned  garrison  was  in  the 
coming  of  the  earl,  and  as  Earl  Warrenne  and  Robert 
Malet  rode  round  the  keep,  and  saw  how  strong  and 
flawless  was  the  masonry,  they  had  a  shrewd  fear  that 
De  Guader  would  yet  bring  the  Danes  and  Bretons 
upon  them  before  they  had  time  to  complete  their 
victory,  and  that,  after  all  their  hard  fighting  ami 
expenditure  of  lives  and  lime  and  money,  the  quarry 
would  escape  them. 

313 


314  FAMINE. 

So  they  determined  to  call  a  parley,  and  endeavour 
to  cajole  the  countess  into  resigning  the  fortress. 

Needless  to  say,  their  summons  was  eagerly  re- 
sponded to  by  the  garrison. 

Emma  trembled  with  hope  that  was  almost  pain,  as 
she  inquired  what  terms  the  envoy  was  empowered  to 
grant. 

'  Safe-conduct  to  herself,  her  ladies,  and  a  reasonable 
escort,  if  she  would  give  her  parole  to  leave  the  country 
within  a  month — no  more.' 

She  realised  then  that  her  hope  had  been  despair  ; 
that  she  had  not  had  courage  to  hope  at  all. 

'  Safe-conduct  for  myself,  my  ladies,  and  every  soul 
in  the  garrison,'  replied  the  countess  proudl}-.  '  I  will 
yield  for  no  less.' 

The  envoy  was  not  empowered  to  grant  it. 

'  Dear  lady,  it  were  better  to  accept  the  terms.  Wc 
cannot  insure  the  safety  even  of  thyself  and  thy  ladies 
in  the  end,'  advised  Sir  Hocl  privately,  '  Nought  lies 
before  us  but  quick  starvation  ;  the  provisions  are  very 
short.' 

'  Desert  you  and  all  who  have  fought  so  nobly  for  us, 
and  braved  every  peril  for  us,  to  insure  our  own  safety  ? 
Never  !  Remember  Stephen  Ic  Hareau  !  They  would 
deal  with  you  likewise,'  cried  Emma.  '  I  have  given 
my  answer.  Conve\'  it  to  thy  lords!'  she  told  the 
envoy. 

Then  the  messenger  said  there  was  a  further  matter. 
It  was  understood  that  a  loyal  knight.  Sir  Aimaiul 
dc    Sourdcval,  was    in    the   castle,  a   prisoner,  and,  the 


FAMINE. 


j'3 


gallant  Childe  Leofric  Ealdredsson  having  fallen  into 
their  hands  on  the  previous  day,  they  proposed  an 
exchange. 

This  was,  of  course,  accepted,  and  Sir  Aimand  was 
sent  for. 

Eadgyth  had  begged  to  attend  the  countess  to  the 
council-chamber,  and  Emma  turned  to  her.  '  I  am 
glad,  Eadgyth.  I  feared  a  worse  fate  for  thy  kinsman.' 
The  poor  girl  turned  to  her  with  a  white  face,  well 
knowing  that  the  words  were  spoken  to  cover  her 
agitation.     She  tried  to  smile. 

'  It  is  a  happy  thing  for  him,'  she  said. 

'  Thy  presence  here  is  no  longer  needed,'  said  the 
countess.  '  Let  Sir  Aimand  wait  upon  mc  in  my  bower 
before  he  goes.' 

'  Poor  child,  thou  shalt  have  a  comfortable  leave- 
taking  at  least ! '  she  said,  as  Eadgyth  followed  to  her 
private  chamber.  *  It  is  good  for  him  to  go,  donzelle  ; 
he  is  eating  his  heart  out  in  misery  here.' 

'  Good  for  him  to  go  that  he  may  be  free  to  slay  my 
people  ! '  cried  Eadgyth  bitterly.  '  Ah,  wretched  me  ! 
that  I  should  love  my  couiUry's  foe  !' 

Emma  had  no  time  to  answer,  for  De  Sourdeval's 
mailed  step  was  clanking  up  the  passage.  A  moment 
later  he  entered  the  bower.  His  eyes  were  shining  and 
his  cheeks  flushed.  He  threw  himself  on  his  knee 
before  the  countess. 

'Ah,  noble  lady,'  he  exclaimed,  'would  that  th\- 
cause  were  one  with  that  of  m\-  licge-lord  William, 
so    I    might    fight    for    thee,    and    show    my    gratitude 


3i6  FAMINE. 

for  all  thy  kindness  and  generosity !  I  will  seek 
service  far  from  here  ;  my  sword  shall  not  be  against 
thee  ! ' 

'  The  generosity  has  not  been  all  on  my  side,  Sir 
Knight!'  replied  the  countess,  with  moistening  eyes. 
'  I  would  indeed  that  my  cause  were  one  with  that  of 
William  of  Normandy ;  that  all  this  turmoil  was  at  an 
end,  and  that  no  more  brave  lives  were  to  be  sacrificed 
for  me  and  mine.'  A  deep,  quivering  sigh  followed  her 
speech. 

*  Lady  Eadgyth,'  said  Sir  Aimand,  with  a  voice  not 
quite  so  steady  as  before,  as  he  turned  to  the  Saxon 
maiden,  '  I  am  glad  thy  kinsman  profits  by  my 
freedom.  It  will  comfort  me  that  if  I  cannot  myself 
labour  in  thy  defence,  my  poor  life  has  served  to  restore 
one  v/ho  can  to  the  garrison — far  more  valiantly  and 
worthily  than  I.' 

He  forced  out  the  words.  He  himself  tried  to 
believe  that  he  was  glad,  but,  in  truth,  the  bitterest  sting 
of  parting  lay  for  him  in  the  thought  that  the  man 
whom  he  regarded  as  his  rival  should  be  in  the  castle, 
favoured  by  daily  and  hourly  intercourse  under  circum- 
stances that  must  needs  draw  the  hardest-hearted 
together.  He  remembered  with  renewed  anguish  all 
the  tortures  of  Tantalus  he  had  endured  during  his 
enforced  inactivity ;  burning  to  distinguish  himself 
before  his  lady's  eyes,  and  forced  to  remain  a  drone  in 
the  hive,  while  Leofric  had  been  free  to  show  himself 
the  hero  he  was,  and  would  now  have  still  fairer 
opportunity. 


FAMINE.  317 

His  eyes  sought  hers,  therefore,  full  of  a  sadness 
which  belied  his  words. 

Eadgyth  longed  to  tear  a  favour  from  her  dress,  and 
bid  him  wear  it  in  his  helm  against  all  comers,  for  that 
no  other  knight,  stranger  or  kin,  should  ever  carry  it. 
But  she  thought,  '  Who  knows  that  we  shall  ever  meet 
again  ?  Why  should  I  bind  him  ?  '  So  she  answered, 
bowing  her  head  to  hide  the  springing  tears,  '  Mary 
Mother  have  thee  in  her  keeping  ! ' 

She  gave  him  her  hand,  which  he  kissed  reverently, 
and  so  departed,  and  half- an -hour  later  Leofric 
Ealdredsson  was  borne  into  the  keep  on  a  litter. 

When  Eadgyth  saw  her  kinsman,  her  heart  smote  her 
that  his  fate  had  moved  her  so  little  ;  for  his  brow 
was  damp  with  pain,  and  his  brawny  arms  dropped 
feebly  by  his  side,  and  all  his  strength  was  fled  from 
him.  She  pansed  and  bound  his  wounds  with  tender 
care,  and  washed  the  clotted  blood  from  his  long  yellow 
curls,  wondering  if  indeed  it  were  true  that  he  was  Sir 
Aimand's  rival,  or  if  it  were  only  a  figment  of  love's 
self-torturing  jealousy. 

From  time  to  time  Leofric  moaned  as  she  minis- 
tered to  him,  but  scarcely  opened  his  eyes.  Did  he 
know  who  it  was,  she  wondered,  or,  if  he  knew,  did 
he  care  ? 

When  the  last  bandage  was  fastened,  and  she  stood 
for  a  moment  to  see  if  aught  more  could  be  done  for 
her  patient,  Leofric  raised  his  weary  head  and  looked 
in  her  face. 

He  did  not  speak,  he  had  scarce  strength  for  that  ; 


3i8  FAMINE. 

his  eyes  were  full  of  gratitude,  and  spoke  his  thanks,  but 
they  told  her  something  more. 

Then  Eadgyth  knew  that  Sir  Aimand  had  said  sooth, 
and  her  heart  smote  her,  and  her  breath  caught  with  an 
inward  sob. 

Leofric  lifted  his  hand  feebly  and  held  it  for  hers. 
Had  she  given  it,  he  would  have  pressed  it  to  his  lips  ; 
she  could  not, — but  an  hour  before  Aimand  de  Sourdeval 
had  kissed  it ! 

Leofric  let  his  great  nerveless  hand  fall  listlessly 
beside  him  again. 

'  Thou  art  the  best  leech  in  the  world,  cousin,'  he 
murmured,  and  closed  his  eyes  again. 

Eadgyth  hurried  away  to  the  bower. 

The  days  that  followed  were  like  an  evil  dream 
for  all  in  the  castle.  The  deadly  monotony  let  them 
note  clearly  how,  hour  by  hour,  death  was  creeping 
nearer. 

The  mangonels  and  warrewolves  were  busy  at  their 
work,  and  the  din  of  their  projectiles  was  ever  in  the 
ears  of  the  besieged.  But  these  were  not  what  they 
feared.  These  could  but  splinter  a  fragment  off  a 
stone  here  and  there,  but  could  make  no  dangerous 
breach  in  walls  thirteen  feet  thick  ;  besides,  wooden 
galleries  had  been  projected  from  the  battlements, 
through  which  the  defenders  poured  scalding  rain  of 
boiling  water  and  molten  lead  upon  the  engineers, 
and  so  prevented  any  lengthened  attack  upon  a  given 
spot. 

No;  the  enemy  they  feared  was  Famine !     She  stared 


FAMINE.  319 

them  in  the  face.  Day  by  day  more  nearly  her  awful 
ghoulish  eyes  came  nearer,  and  the  grip  of  her  bony 
hands  was  at  their  throats. 

And  still  the  warders  scanned  the  horizon  vainly,  in 
hope  to  see  the  glimmer  of  friendly  armour,  still  vainly 
watched  the  river  for  the  flash  of  friendly  oars. 

Day  after  day  dragged  its  slow  length  along,  and  yet 
the  position  remained  unchanged,  save  that  the  assailants 
had  almost  given  up  effort,  and  quietly  surrounded  them, 
biding  their  time,  knowing  well  that  it  must  come  if 
only  no  relief  appeared. 

The  garrison  had  long  been  reduced  to  the  barest 
rations  on  which  it  was  possible  to  sustain  life, 
and  the  few  poor  horses  which  had  been  taken  into 
the  keep,  in  the  hope  of  some  happy  chance  making 
their  services  available,  had  .shared  the  fate  of  their 
brethren. 

Gaunt  faces  and  spectre  forms  dragged  wearily  from 
post  to  post,  and  strange  thoughts  flitted  across  hungry 
brains  when  slain  men  had  to  be  buried  in  the  donjon 
vaults.  If  one  were  to  eat  a  body  now,  what  would 
happen  at  the  last  day?  Would  it  be  more  difficult  for 
the  soul  that  needed  it  again  than  for  those  whose  flesh 
had  been  food  for  worms  in  the  usual  way?  Would  the 
men  who  had  partaken  of  the  flesh,  and  incorporated  it 
into  their  own  bodies,  have  to  give  it  up  again  when  the 
time  of  resurrection  had  arrived,  and  go  scant  them- 
selves ?  Then  they  shuddered  and  crossed  themselves, 
and  muttered  an  ave  or  a  paternoster,  shunning  the 
hungry  eyes  of  their   neighbour,  lest  he  should  guess 


330  FAMINE. 

their  thoughts,  or  be  thinking  like  horribleness  himself, 
while  they  buckled  their  belts  tighter  to  stay  their 
pangs. 

The  countess,  worn  to  a  shadow,  with  her  arm  still 
bandaged,  —  for  the  worry  and  care  she  had  under- 
gone had  hurt  her  health  and  kept  her  wound  from 
healing,  —  was  ever  among  them,  consoling,  entreat- 
ing, commanding,  inventing  all  manner  of  comforts 
for  their  souls  and  their  bodies.  She  it  was  who 
prompted  the  cooks  to  make  dainty  dishes  out  of  most 
unlikely  materials  ;  who  sang  the  song  of  Rollo  as  she 
passed  on  her  way,  and  kept  up  their  hearts  with  gay 
jests. 

One  day  an  archer  had  the  good  fortune  to  shoot  a 
heron  that  was  flapping  with  evenly  beating  wings 
across  the  sky,  so  that  it  fell  fluttering  upon  the  roof  of 
the  keep,  and  was  soon  killed  and  presented  by  the 
lucky  marksman  to  the  countess,  as  a  fit  tribute  to  her 
private  table,  the  fare  on  which,  as  all  knew,  had  been 
poor  enough  for  some  time  past. 

She  thanked  the  stout  bowman  heartily,  but  bade 
him  follow  her,  and  led  the  way  to  the  great  kitchen. 
Then  she  bade  the  scullions  pluck  the  noble  bird  ;  and, 
after  that  was  done,  put  it  with  her  own  white  hands 
into  the  great  cauldron  which  was  cooking  for  the 
men. 

'  Share  and  share  alike,'  she  said ;  and  the  soldiers 
cheered  her,  so  that  the  king's  men  heard  it  outside  the 
walls,  and  wondered  what  good  luck  could  have  come 
to  their  prisoners. 


FAMINE. 


321 


One  morning  Eadgyth  met  her  kinsman,  Leofric 
Ealdredsson,  who  had  so  far  recovered  from  his  wounds 
as  to  be  able  to  keep  watch  and  ward,  and  to  sec  that 
the  sentinels  did  their  duty.  His  face  bore  traces  of 
violent  agitation. 

'  Well  met,  coosine,'  cried  he  ;  'I  wanted  to  see  thee. 
Keep  thy  lady  off  the  battlements  to-day,  and  go  not 
thither  thyself.' 

Eadgyth  looked  in  his  face,  and  trembled.  '  Thou 
hast  bad  news.  I  will  heed  thy  warning.  But  where- 
fore? Is  aught  more  terrible  than  we  daily  witness  to 
be  seen  ? ' 

'  By  Odin  and  Thor,  yes !  It  bears  not  the  tell- 
ing.' 

'  Oh,  Leofric,  invoke  not  those  dreadful  pagan 
names  in  such  an  hour!  Pray  rather  to  the  holy 
saints.' 

'  If  thou  wouldst  take  mc  in  hand,  a  good  man  might 
perchance  be  made  of  me,  coosine,'  said  the  wild  Leofric, 
with  a  laugh  half  tender  and  half  bitter. 

Eadgyth  shook  her  head. 

'  But  thou  hast  sorely  alarmed  mc,  Leofric.  I  would 
rather  know  the  worst.' 

'  Well,  the  countess  must  know  some  time  ;   perhaps 

it  were  better  told  through   thee.      This,  then,   is  the 

sight  to  be  seen  from  the  battlements,  and  it  is  ugly  as 

sin.'     The  veins  on  his  forehead  swelled,  and  his  strong 

throat  gathered  into  knots,  \\liilc  his  fingers  clenched  on 

the  hilt  of  his  dagger.    '  A  tall  gallows,  right  close  under 

our  noses,  and  three    men    hanged    thereon  ;    with    an 

X 


322  FAMINE. 

inscription    over    them,    "  The    traitor    Breton's    traitor 


messengers." ' 


Eadgyth  clasped  her  hands.  '  The  earl  has  sent,  and 
they  have  caught  his  men  ! ' 

'  That's  it ; '  and  Leofric  murmured  a  few  wishes 
regarding  the  king's  men  that  at  the  least  were  un- 
charitable. '  Further,  one  of  the  men  is  the  poor  fool  H 
Grillonne — a  quick-witted  rascal  as  ever  was  called 
wise — he  who  saved  his  master  so  cleverly  after  the 
battle.' 

'Grillonne!  What!  Grillonne  so  entreated?'  ex- 
claimed Eadgyth,  with  a  shudder.  '  But  that  will  be  a 
sore  blow  to  the  earl  when  he  comes  to  know  it.  Art 
thou  sure  ? ' 

'  Ay  ;  the  knave's  face  was  one  not  easily  mistaken,' 
said  Leofric. 

Eadgyth  hurried  to  the  bower,  and  told  the  countess 
what  she  had  heard. 

'  But  it  is  good  news,  it  is  great  news  ! '  cried  Emma,  • 
with  sparkling  eyes.  '  Ralph  is  alive,  and  trying  to  help 
us  !  Alacke  !  I  grieve  for  the  poor  envoys  and  Grillonne. 
Ah,  'tis  sad  such  a  fate  has  befallen  him,  the  poor 
honest  fool !  his  quick  wits  have  not  saved  him  after 
all' 

Emma  was  right,  it  proved  to  be  good  news,  for 
Earl  Warrenne  and  his  colleagues,  before  hanging  the 
messengers,  had  extracted  from  them  the  intelligence 
that  Ralph  de  Guader  had  collected  a  great  force  in 
Bretagne  and  amongst  the  Danes,  and  that  he  was 
coming    to    the    relief  of   his    beleaguered    castle.      A 


IfAMINE.  323 

day  or  two  later  they  called  a  parley,  and  offered 
safe-conduct  to  the  whole  garrison,  without  exception, 
on  condition  that  they  left  England  witliin  forty  days, 
counting  from  the  day  on  which  they  surrendered  the 
castle. 

Emma  would  fain  have  held  out  still,  hoping  that 
the  earl  was  on  his  way  to  relieve  them  ;  but  she 
had  no  certain  knowledge  of  his  movements,  and 
the  famine  was  so  direful  that  even  the  fire-cating 
Leofric  was  obliged  to  counsel  her  to  accei)t  the 
terms. 

'  It  is  a  victory !'  exclaimed  Sir  Hocl,  moved  almost 
to  tears;  'and  we  owe  it  to  thy  haught  spirit  and 
determined  courage,  noble  countess.  Thy  name  shall 
be  famous  in  days  to  come.' 

So  the  garrison  were  called  together  into  the 
great  hall,  and  told  how  that  their  lives  were  saved, 
and  that  they  were  to  march  out  of  Castle  Blaunche- 
flour  with  banners  flying,  and  all  the  honours  of 
war,  instead  of  having  their  feet  cut  off  like  poor 
Stephen  le  llareau  and  the  other  prisoners  the  king's 
men  had  taken  ;  and  the  men,  who  had  looked  for- 
ward to  certain  ill  -  fortune  fur  themselves,  whatever 
might  betide  their  superiors,  thought  it  a  victory 
also. 

How  the  hall  rang  with  cheers,  and  congratulations, 
and  praise  of  the  countess !  Norman  and  l^reton, 
Saxon  and  Dane,  raised  what  voices  hunger  had  left 
them,  and  verily  they  shouted  lustily,  notwithstanding  a 
light  breakfast. 


324  FAMINE. 

The  countess  stood  amongst  them,  sobbing  like  a 
child. 

'  No  praise  is  due  to  me  ;  it  is  all  to  you,  my  gallant 
defenders.' 

So  the  answer  went  back  to  Earl  William  de  Warrenne 
that  the  keys  of  Castle  Blauncheflour  should  be  sur- 
rendered on  the  morrow. 

Then  all  the  garrison  attended  a  '  Te  Deum '  in  the 
chapel  of  St.  Nicholas. 

Afterwards,  when  the  knights  had  again  assembled  in 
the  great  hall,  the  countess  said, — 

'  Leofric  Ealdredsson,  these  gentlemen,  thy  comrades 
in  arms,  shame  themselves  that  they  should  wear  the 
belt  and  spurs  while  one  who  has  fought  so  knightly 
should  not  claim  them.  We  well  know  thou  hast  them 
not  solely  because  thou  wert  too  careless  to  claim 
them,  but  I  would  not  have  thee  leave  Blauncheflour 
undubbed.' 

Leofric's  pale  hunger-eaten  cheeks  turned  red  with 
pleasure. 

'  If  the  men  who  have  fought  with  me  here  esteem 
me  peer,  I  will  not  reject  the  honour,'  he  answered  ;  at 
which  the  hall  rang  with  cheers. 

Then  said  the  countess,  smiling,  '  Wilt  thou  have 
thine  accolade  in  our  Norman  fashion,  from  the  hands 
of  a  knight,  and  take  Sir  Hoel  de  St.  Brice  for  thy 
sponsor,  or,  in  the  way  of  thine  own  people,  at  the 
hands  of  Father  Pierre  ?  ' 

'  Nay,'  quoth  the  turbulent  hero,  *  there  is  a  better 
way  than  either.      Many  a  good   man  has   taken   his 


FAMINE.  325 

knighthood  from  the  hands  of  a  maiden.  Let  my  fair 
kinswoman,  thy  bower-maiden,  stand  sponsor  to  me  ; ' 
and  he  turned  appeaiingly  to  Eadgyth. 

'A  truce  to  thy  jests,  Leofric  Ealdredsson,  this  is  no 
time  for  them  ! '  answered  Eadgj'th  sliarply,  fingering 
the  bracelet  she  always  wore  upon  her  arm. 

'  By  the  Rood,  I  mean  no  jest,  coosinc !  Jourdain 
took  his  knighthood  from  the  hands  of  his  lady ;  why 
not  I  from  thee?' 

'  Keep  to  the  old  Saxon  custom,  Leofric  ;  take  it  from 
the  hands  of  Father  Pierre.' 

And  so  he  did  ;  and  his  last  night  within  the  walls  of 
Blaunchcflour  was  spent  in  vigil  and  prayer  before  the 
altar  of  the  chapel,  whereon  lay  his  armour. 

On  the  morrow,  the  brave  defenders  of  Nor- 
wich Castle  marched  forth  from  its  sheltering  walls, 
with  all  the  honours  of  war ;  carr)'ing  their  arms, 
and  fully  equipped,  with  flags  Hying  and  banners 
waving. 

The  leaders  of  the  ro)'al  forces  sent  palfre)-s  for 
the  countess  and  her  ladies,  and  came  in  state  to 
meet  the  woman  w  Iio  had  held  them  all  at  baj- 
so  long,  armed  cap-d-pic,  tiieir  horses  prancing  and 
curveting,  and  plumes  dancing  in  the  breeze.  Many 
a  courtly  compliment  they  paid  to  their  fair  foe, 
and  Earl  VVarrennc  took  the  kc)-s  himself  from  her 
white  hands. 

Then  Bishop  Geoffre}',  and  I'^arl  Warrcnnc,  and 
Robert  Malet  took  possession  of  Castle  Blauncheflour 
formally,  and  threw  into  it  a  garrison  of  three  hundred 


326  FAMINE. 

men-at-arms,    and    a    body    of    balistarii    and    other 
engineers. 

And  Archbishop  Lanfranc  wrote  to  King  William,  in 
terms  more  forcible  than  polite,  '  Glory  be  to  God  on 
high !  your  kingdom  is  at  last  purged  from  the  filth  of 
these  Bretons.' 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

BRETAGNE. 

The  days  that  followed  seemed  like  an  evil  dream 
to  the  countess  and  her  ladies. 

Several  of  the  Breton  knights  who  were  amongst 
the  garrison  had  manors  in  the  neighbourhood  ;  these 
were,  of  course,  under  confiscation  ;  still,  for  the  forty 
days  allowed  them  to  get  away  from  England,  the)- 
retained  the  lordship  of  their  estates,  and  were  able 
to  offer  hospitality  to  Emma. 

On  their  way  to  a  temporary  retreat  thus  provided  for 
them,  the  newly-dubbed  knight,  Sir  Leofric  Iiialdrcdsson, 
reined  in  the  somewhat  sorry  jade  he  had  managed 
to  procure,  to  the  side  of  his  kinswoman  ICadgyth,  as 
on  a  happier  occasion  Sir  Ainiand  dc  Sourdcval  h;ul 
reined  in  a  nobler  steed. 

'Alack,  coosine  !  the  Norman  fell-monger  is  safe  in  liis 
seat  now.  Our  last  chance  is  over  and  done.  We  have 
nought  left  but  to  submit  with  the  best  grace  we  can 
muster,'  he  said  sadly. 

Eadgyth  turned  to  him  w  ith  an  unfathomable  regret 
in  her  limpid  eyes.  '  Vcs,  it  is  too  true;  the  Normans 
have  conquered." 

327 


328  BRETAGNE. 

'  But  not  us,  coosine  !  We  shall  never  be  conquered 
in  spirit,  you  and  I  !  Wc  are  Angles  to  the  backbone, 
and  always  shall  be.  In  the  fat  Fenland  we  may  yet 
live  a  life  of  our  own,  doing  homage  to  no  man,  and 
defying  fate.  Share  my  island  home  amongst  the  meres, 
Eadgyth.     I  have  strength  to  protect  thee.' 

Then  Eadgyth  shook  her  head  sadly,  her  voice  was 
scarcely  audible  as  she  answered, — 

*  I  am  not  so  staunch  as  you  think  me,  kinsman.  I 
fear  I  am  conquered,  body  and  soul.  Day  by  day  it 
hath  been  borne  in  upon  me  more  strongly  that  the 
Normans  have  won  because  they  deserved  to  win.' 

Leofric  opened  his  blue  eyes  at  this  announcement, 
and  rounded  his  mouth  for  an  oath,  but  recollected 
himself  and  checked  it,  and  tugged  his  yellow  beard 
instead. 

'  I  say  it  advisedly,  Leofric  Ealdredsson  :  we  English 
have  lost  because  we  were  selfish  and  lazy  ;  sunk  in 
enjoyment ;  turbulent,  and  unwilling  to  submit  to 
discipline.  Hast  thou  not  thyself  told  me  how  the 
Normans  spent  the  night  before  Senlac  in  prayer  and 
vigil,  while  the  English  feasted  and  drank  it  away  ? ' 

'  Ah,  Eadgyth,  well  for  thee  thou  art  a  v/oman ! ' 
answered  Leofric,  grinding  his  teeth,  his  cheeks  flushed 
with  anger.  Then  he  burst  out  laughing  in  his  light- 
hearted,  merry  way,  though  there  was  a  taint  of  bitter- 
ness in  his  mirth. 

'  By  Asgaard  and  Odin  !  I  believe  thou  art  bewitched 
by  that  pale,  shaven  -  faced  Norman  prudJioinmc,  as 
they    call    it — Aimand    de    Sourdeval.      My    unclerkly 


BRET  AG  NE.  329 

tongue  and  downright  ways  doubtless  bear  ill  the 
contrast  with  such  a  "parfait  knight"!'  He  brought 
down  his  strong  hand  on  his  thigh  with  a  force  that 
made  all  his  bracelets  jingle.  '  Say  frankly  now, 
kinswoman,  thou  thinkest  him  the  better  man  of  us 
twain  ? ' 

He  dreaded  the  answer,  though  he  braved  it  But 
Eadgyth,  looking  steadily  in  his  face,  replied, — 

'I  should  not  speak  sooth,  Leofric  Ealdredsson,  if  I 
denied  it.  I  do  think  him  the  better  man.  Thou 
thyself  hast  said  he  was  thine  equal  in  the  niclcc ;  and, 
certes,  he  is  more  gentle  in  hall.' 

Leofric  turned  away  and  hung  his  head,  only  for  a 
moment.  Then  he  faced  Eadgyth  with  a  bright  smile, 
the  indomitable  spirit  of  the  man  meeting  the  heart- 
wound  as  it  would  have  met  one  of  the  flesh. 

'  But  I  am  here,  and  he  is  absent,'  he  said  ;  '  a  live 
dog,  they  say,  is  better  than  a  dead  lion.  And  he  is 
of  the  conquerors,  and  I  of  the  conquered,  so  all  thy 
generosity  should  be  thrown  into  my  side  of  the  balance. 
Beside,'  he  added  seriously,  '  the  blood  of  thy  countr\-- 
men  is  on  his  blade,  whilst  I  am  of  thy  people.' 

Eadgyth  shuddered,  and  clutched  the  pommel  of  her 
saddle;  the  quick  tears  started  from  her  c}-cs,  and 
rolled  one  after  another  down  her  cheeks. 

Leofric  leaned  over  and  laid  his  broad  palm  upon  her 
little  trembling  hand. 

'Go  not  away  from  tin'  couiitr\-  in  the  train  <>f  the 
foreign  woman,  Eadgyth, — though  God  forbid  that  I 
should    say  aught    against    her,    for   she    is    brave    and 


330  BRET  AG  NE. 

beautiful, — but  come  thou  over  into  the  Fenlands,  and 
share  my  risks,  and  comfort  my  poor  old  father,  and 
tame  me.  Rough  as  I  am,  I  would  always  be  gentle  to 
tliee,  Eadgyth.' 

'  Wouldst  thou  wed  me  with  another  man's  image  in 
my  heart,  Leofric  ? '  asked  Eadgyth,  with  a  trembling 
voice. 

'  I  would  drive  out  that  image  by  my  own,'  avowed 
Leofric. 

'  That  thou  wilt  never  do,  coosine ! '  said  Eadgyth 
firmly.  '  No,  do  not  dream  it.  I  can  never  be  his, 
neither  can  I  wed  any  other.  Nor  can  I  leave  my  lady 
now  in  her  sore  distress  and  sorrow.  No,  Leofric,  I 
cannot  go  with  thee ;  ask  me  no  more,  it  is  but  pain  to 
both.' 

Then  Leofric  saw  she  was  in  earnest,  and  desisted. 
Affecting  to  see  some  dangerous  object  that  required 
investigation,  he  struck  spurs  into  his  Jiacquenee,  and 
dashed  off  into  the  brushwood  that  bordered  the  road  ; 
and  when  he  joined  the  cavalcade  again,  he  took  care 
not  to  choose  the  neighbourhood  of  his  cousin's  palfrey. 

About  a  fortnight  later,  the  countess  and  her  ladies, 
amongst  whom  was  the  faithful  Eadgyth,  went  on  board 
a  long-bodied,  high-prowed  galley  at  Lovelly's  Staithe. 
It  was  propelled  by  twenty-five  oars  on  each  side,  and 
flaunted  gaudy  embroidered  sails  to  the  wind,  the  main- 
mast being  surrounded  by  a  gallery  round  which  a 
sentinel  could  walk.  The  garrison  of  Blauncheflour 
embarked  on  board  a  small  flotilla  of  similar  vessels. 

We  may  imagine  how  they  sufi"ered  as  they  made 


BRETAGNE.  331 

tedious  progress  clown  the  rough  cast  coast,  passing 
Dunwich  and  Ipswich,  and  the  low-lying  estuaries  of 
Maldon  and  the  Thames  ;  and  farther  south,  Sandwich 
and  the  high  white  cliffs  of  Dover,  famous  then,  although 
no  Shakespeare  had  sung  them.  How  they  raised  their 
weary  heads  and  strained  their  sad  eyes  to  look  at  the 
castles  which  William  the  Norman  had  built  at  Hastings 
and  Lewes  and  Arundel  ;  and  how  Eadgyth  wept  to 
see  them,  because  they  reminded  her  of  slain  Harold 
Godwinsson,  and  were  proof  of  the  downfall  of  her 
nation.  Emma  was  sorrowful  too,  because  they  witnessed 
to  the  valour  and  success  of  the  greatest  captain  of  the 
age,  whom  her  father,  stout  William  Fitzosbern,  had 
loved  and  honoured,  and  against  whom  she  was  in 
rebellion. 

They  slipped  as  quickly  as  might  be  past  the  rough 
Norman  coast,  keeping  as  far  out  to  sea  as  possible,  lest 
Norman  vessels  should  come  down  on  them  and  harry 
them,  and  bear  off  the  precious  charge  they  guarded,  to 
be  kept  in  durance  vile  till  ransom  was  extorted,  which 
was  far  from  improbable,  notwithstanding  the  forty  days' 
safe-conduct  given  them  by  William's  officers. 

Standing  out  so  far  to  sea,  they  got  a  rough  tossing 
on  Atlantic  rollers,  and  many  a  baptism  of  Atlantic 
spray.  With  what  joy  they  hailed  the  first  glimpse  of 
the  Breton  rocks  !  How  glad  they  were  when  they  made 
the  Illc,  and  floated  under  the  staithcs  of  Dinan  ! 

Then  all  was  question  and  curiosity,  one  side  as  eager 
to  hear  as  the  other.  The  countess  and  her  ittcinic 
asking   news   of  Ralph   de   Guader  and    Montfort ;   the 


332  BRETAGNE. 

Brittany  folks  as  anxious  to  learn  how  she  had  fared, 
and  how  escaped. 

The  countess  learned  with  joy  that  Ralph  was  at 
Montfort,  scarce  forty  miles  away,  preparing  with  might 
and  main  an  expedition  for  the  relief  of  Rlauncheflour. 
'  Had  she  not  seen  the  warships  in  the  harbour  ? '  they 
asked. 

We  may  guess  how  quickly  messengers  were  sent  off 
to  Montfort,  and  how  Ralph  mounted  in  hot  haste  as 
soon  as  they  told  him  that  his  countess  had  come,  with 
all  her  gallant  garrison,  and  how  he  galloped  to  meet 
them  as  fast  as  his  steed  could  gallop.  No  doubt  he 
sighed  that  he  had  not  Oliver  under  him  then. 

Emma  and  her  following  got  what  horses  they  could, 
and  started  for  Montfort, 

The  August  sun  shone  hotly  from  the  blue  continental 
sky,  and  the  apples  were  turning  yellow  and  red  in  the 
orchards  along  the  road.  As  noon  came  on,  the  travellers, 
having  ridden  some  fifteen  miles  on  very  sorry  beasts, 
were  fain  to  rest  them  at  a  wayside  hostel. 

The  countess  and  her  ladies  ascended  the  ladder  that 
served  for  a  staircase  to  the  upper  chamber,  and,  while 
food  was  preparing  below,  lay  down  upon  the  rushes  to 
rest  their  weary  limbs. 

The  countess  occupied  a  low  pallet  bed  that  stood  in 
a  corner  of  the  room,  and  so  utterly  weary  and  broken 
down  was  she,  that  she  could  not  even  rejoice  at  thought 
of  seeing  her  husband  speedily.  She  soon  fell  into  a 
heavy  slumber,  broken  by  dreams  of  the  dreadful  past 
more  terrible  even  than  the  reality. 


BRETAGNE.  333 

She  heard  again  the  din  of  the  warrcwolves  and 
mangonels,  and  the  crash  of  the  stones  flung  by  them 
as  they  struck  the  walls,  the  clash  of  swords  and 
clangor  of  armour ;  and  the  terror  and  woe  of  it 
overcame  her.  She  awoke  with  a  scream.  Throwinsf 
out  her  arms  wildly,  her  hands  came  in  contact  with  a 
man's  mailed  gauntlets,  and  she  sprang  up,  crying, 
'  Blauncheflour  is  taken  !    To  the  rescue  !  to  the  rescue  ! ' 

'  Dost  thou  not  know  me,  my  wife,  mine  own  ? ' 
answered  Ralph's  voice,  broken  with  sobs.  '  Would  to 
God  I  had  never  left  thee ! ' 

Emma  burst  into  hysterical  laughter,  and  threw 
herself  upon  her  husband's  breast,  sobbing  for  joy.  '  I 
was  dreaming,  Ralph  !  Would  all  bad  dreams  might 
end  as  happily.' 

Then  they  sat  down  side  by  side  upon  the  bed,  and 
looked  in  each  other's  faces.  They  were  alone,  for 
Emma's  ladies  had  delicately  withdrawn  when  the  carl 
entered,  knowing  that  they  would  rather  be  in  private. 

'  How  pale  thou  art  and  thin,  my  sweet,'  said  Ralph, 
reproaching  himself  more  and  more  bitterly  that  he  had 
left  her  to  struggle  alone. 

'  I  fear  my  poor  face  has  lost  its  fairness,  Ralph,'  u  ilh 
an  anxiety  of  tone  that  was  all  of  love  and  naught  of 
vanity. 

'Thou  art  ten  times  fairer  to  me  than  ever  before,  my 
heroine ! '  answered  De  Guadcr  fondly.  '  But  let  me 
make  excuse  e'er  I  question  thcc.  This  is  how  I  came 
not  to  thine  aid.  I  went,  as  thou  knowest,  to  Denmark, 
and   sought  Sweyn  Ulfsson,  and  begged  him  bear  out 


334  BRETAGNE. 

his  promises  and  assist  me  with  men,  telling  him  that  he 
might  yet  hoist  William  from  the  English  throne.  And 
Sweyn  swore  by  the  head  of  Sleipnir,  Odin's  horse, 
which  thou  knowest  is  a  mighty  oath  amongst  these 
Danish  heathens,  that  he  would  support  me.  But  then 
my  wounds,  being  half  healed,  broke  out  afresh  ;  and  my 
head  being  still  sore  through  Odo's  blow,  I  fell  into  a 
fever,  and  lost  my  mind  for  six  weeks.  Meanwhile 
Sweyn  had  made  no  move,  and  when  I  came  to  myself 
I  was  still  weak  and  powerless.  As  soon  as  I  got 
strength  enough,  I  came  over  here  to  collect  my  vassals, 
and  call  to  me  whoever  would  put  his  hands  between 
mine  and  be  my  man  ;  and  I  sent  off  messengers  to 
comfort  thee ' — 

'  Whom  William's  men  caught,  and  hanged  on  a 
gallows  as  high  as  the  donjon  keep,'  interposed  Emma. 

Ralph  gnashed  his  teeth. 

'Ah  !  was  it  so?  My  faithful  Grillonne,  was  this  the 
reward  of  thy  long  service  ?  I  have  brought  evil  on  all 
who  loved  me !  I  had  all  in  readiness,  and  should  have 
started  in  a  day,  but,  the  blessed  saints  be  praised  !  thou 
art  here  in  safety,  and  there  is  no  need.  None  can  tell 
how  I  have  suffered  thinking  of  thee.' 

'  Thy  cheeks  are  hollow  enough,  in  truth ;  thou  canst 
not  crow  over  me,'  said  Emma,  with  a  flash  of  her  old 
gaiety.  And  then  she  told  him  the  long  story  of  the 
siege  of  Blauncheflour. 

Ralph  listened  as  one  spellbound,  and  when  she  had 
ended  her  tale  he  slipped  on  his  knee  at  her  feet. 

'  Let  me  do  thee  homage,'  he  said,  with  a  proud,  fond 


BRETAGNE.  335 

glance  in  her  eyes.  'What  am  I  that  thou  shouldst 
have  so  suffered  for  my  sake?  It  humbles  me  un- 
speakably.' 

Ever  after  it  seemed  to  Emma  that  the  poor  garret 
of  that  wayside  inn  was  the  noblest,  fairest,  and  most 
beautiful  apartment  into  which  she  had  ever  set  foot.^ 

'  See  Appendix,  Note  E. 


CONCLUSION. 

Whoever  will,  may  find  no  small  part  of  the  ensuing 
chapter  in  the  pages  of  grave  historians  ;  but  in  no 
sober  leaf  of  history  will  they  find  recorded  how  it 
fared  with  Eadgyth  of  Norwich  and  Sir  Aimand  de 
Sourdeval. 

Ralph  and  Emma,  like  an  orthodox  hero  and  heroine, 
lived  happily  together  to  the  end  of  their  days  ;  though 
they  had  to  fight  a  good  many  more  battles.  De 
Guader  had  made  himself  a  mighty  enemy  in  William 
the  Conqueror,  King  of  England  and  Duke  of  Nor- 
mandy ;  one  who,  in  his  latter  capacity,  had  no  mind 
to  have  Ralph  rampant  on  the  borders  of  his  dukedom. 
So  he  invaded  Brittany,  and  strove  to  run  De  Guader 
to  earth  in  his  own  country  ;  he  invested  Dol,  but  had 
to  raise  the  siege  somewhat  ignominiously,  owing  to 
the  help  rendered  to  the  besieged  by  Alan  Fergant, 
son  of  the  reigning  Count  Howel  of  Brittany,  and 
Philip  of  France,  who  was  always  delighted  to  supply 
aid  against  William. 

Sweyn  Ulfsson,  King  of  Denmark,  carried  out  his 
promises  to  Ralph,  and  sent  his  son  Cnut  with  Hakon 
Jarl   to   invade   England  ;    and    they   appeared    on    the 

336 


CONCLUSION.  ii-j 

east  coast  with  a  fleet  of  two  hundred  ships,  and 
actually  put  into  tlic  Humber,  though  rather  too  late 
to  serve  the  purposes  of  the  ambitious  earl. 

William,  whether  really  frightened,  or  moved  by  the 
lust  of  power  which  was  rapidly  gaining  upon  him, 
and  which  clouded  his  later  years  with  hate  and  misery, 
made  the  descent  of  the  Danes  a  pretext  for  the  worst 
crime  of  his  reign — the  judicial  murder  of  Walthcof; 
— for  it  must  be  noted  that,  with  this  exception, 
his  conduct  to  the  English  princes  was  generous  and 
mild. 

When  the  son  of  Siward  had  carried  to  William 
the  news  of  the  plot  in  which  he  had  taken  part, 
the  Conqueror  had  received  liim  graciously,  and  had 
pardoned  him  freely  for  his  o^\•n  share  of  the  mischief 
But  he  kept  him  at  his  side,  although  he  did  not  call 
him  a  prisoner;  and,  soon  after  landing  in  l'2ngland, 
arrested  him  on  a  charge  of  comi)licit\-  with  the  Danes, 
who  had  been  his  old  comrades.  William  had  that 
excuse  for  thinking  him  dangerous. 

Then    came   Judith's    opportunity.      She   hated    the 

husband    she    had     been    forced    to    marry    for    State 

purposes,  and   stood   forth  as  his   accuser,  pouring  her 

poison  into  the  ears  of  her  royal  uncle.     Unfortunately 

William    listened,    and    cast    the    son    of    Siward    into 

prison  at  Winchester,  where  he  languished   for  months, 

while  a  mock  trial  was  going  on,  which  many  hungry 

Normans,   who   wanted    his    estates,   were   determined 

should    end    to    their   liking.     Ivo   Taillebois,  who  had 

been  one  of  Ilereward's  most  venomous  foes,  and  whose 

Y 


338  CONCLUSION. 

lands  adjoined  those  of  Waltheof,  was  amongst  the 
most  clamorous  for  his  destruction  ;  and  the  Primate 
Lanfranc  his  best  advocate  and  almost  sole  friend, 
recognising  perhaps  that  it  was  by  his  persuasion  that 
Waltheof  had  been  induced  to  place  himself  in  the 
power  of  the  Conqueror. 

Early  one  morning,  while  the  good  folks  of  Win- 
chester were  asleep  in  their  beds,,  the  Normans  led  the 
Saxon  chief  without  the  walls  of  the  town.  Waltheof 
walked  to  the  place  of  execution  clothed  in  his  earl's 
apparel,  which  he  distributed  among  some  priests,  or 
gave  to  some  poor  people  who  had  followed  him,  and 
whom  the  Normans  permitted  to  approach  on  account 
of  their  small  numbers  and  entirely  peaceful  appearance. 
Having  reached  a  hill  at  a  short  distance  from  the 
walls,  the  soldiers  halted,  and  the  Saxon,  prostrating 
himself,  prayed  aloud  for  a  few  moments ;  but  the 
Normans,  fearing  that  too  long  a  delay  would  cause  a 
rumour  of  the  intended  execution  to  be  spread  in  the 
town,  and  that  the  citizens  would  rise  to  save  their  fellow- 
countryman,  exclaimed  with  impatience  to  Waltheof, 
'  Arise,  that  we  may  fulfil  our  orders.'  He  asked,  as  a 
last  favour,  that  they  would  wait  only  until  he  had  once 
more  repeated,  for  them  and  for  himself,  the  Lord's 
Prayer.  They  allowed  him  to  do  so  ;  and  Waltheof, 
rising  from  the  ground,  but  remaining  on  his  knees, 
began  aloud,  'Our  Father  who  art  in  Heaven;'  but 
at  the  verse,  '  and  lead  us  not  into  temptation,'  the 
executioner,  seeing  perhaps  that  daylight  was  beginning 
to  appear,  would  wait  no  longer,  but,  suddenly  drawing 


CONCLUSION. 


339 


his  large  sword,  struck  off  the  Saxon's  head  at  one 
blow.  The  body  was  thrown  into  a  hole,  dug  between 
two  roads,  and  hastily  covered  with  earth. ^  Ikit  the 
monks  of  Crowland,  to  whom  he  had  made  rich  eifts 
in  his  lifetime,  and  who  had  been  staunch  throughout 
to  the  English  cause,  got  the  body  up  again  a  fortnight 
later,  and  averred  that  it  was  still  unchanged  and  the 
blood  fresh  (sixteen  years  later  they  pronounced  that 
it  was  still  as  fresh,  and  that  the  head  had  grown  on 
to  the  body  again  !) ;  and  they  bore  it  away  to  '  Holland.' 
to  St.  Guthlac's  in  the  Fens,  and  erected  a  tomb  in 
the  abbeys  with  William's  permission,  whereat  great 
miracles  took  place.  When  his  traitress  wife  Judith, 
the 'foreign  woman,'  as  the  chroniclers  style  her,  went 
to  cover  this  monument  to  her  husband  with  a  rich 
pall  of  silk,  which  she  had  prepared  for  it,  the  martyred 
hero  refused  her  hypocritical  gift,  and  the  offering  was 
snatched  away  and  thrown  to  a  distance  by  an  invisible 
hand. 

So  the  Saxon  monks  made  a  holy  mart}-r  of 
the  wavering  Waltheof,  whose  fate,  and  the  fate  of 
England  with  it,  might  have  been  very  different 
if  he  had  possessed  as  much  moral  as  physical 
courage. 

The  Norman  ecclesiastics  accused  the  Saxons  as 
idolaters,  and  found  the  occasion  good  for  deposing  and 
dishonouring  Abbot  Wulfketel,  and  putting  Norman 
Toustain    in    his  stead  ;   which  only  made  the  English 

'Thierry,    Norman    Conquest,    p.    Iij.     Almo>t    literal   translalioii   of 
Ordcric  Vitalis. 


340  CONCLUSION. 

more  keen  to  honour  their  dead  hero,  and  they  rushed 
in  crowds  to  his  tomb, 

Judith  thought  herself  very  lucky  to  have  all  the 
money  and  lands  that  had  belonged  to  Waltheof,  and 
to  be  free  of  him,  and  made  up  her  mind  to  have 
a  second  husband  according  to  her  own  taste.  But 
she  wished  him  alive  again  when  William  made  a 
present  of  her,  possessions  and  all,  to  one  Simon  de 
Senlis,  a  brave,  but  lame  and  deformed  knight. 

She  refused  to  carry  out  the  bargain,  so  William 
consoled  De  Senlis  with  her  daughter  instead,  together 
with  all  the  lands  and  money  ;  and  the  Saxon  chroniclers 
gloat  over  Judith's  subsequent  poverty  and  sorrows. 
But  we,  looking  back,  now  the  years  have  rolled  away, 
may  pity  her,  and  see  that  the  crime  lay  with  those 
who  treated  a  woman  as  a  chattel,  and  '  gave '  her  away 
to  this  man  and  that,  without  consulting  her  welfare 
or  her  happiness,  rather  than  with  the  woman  so 
treated. 

And  Emma's  brother,  the  son  of  William's  staunchest 
vassal,  how  fared  he  ? 

When  the  Conqueror  passed  the  Straits  after  his 
attempt  to  reduce  De  Guader  at  Dol,  he  called  a  great 
council  of  Norman  barons  to  pass  judgment  on  the 
authors  of  the  recent  conspiracy.  Ralph  de  Guader 
they  dispossessed  of  all  his  English  property  as  absent 
and  contumacious ;  and  Roger  of  Hereford,  being  a 
prisoner,  was  brought  before  them,  and  condemned  to 
lose  all  his  lands,  and  to  pass  the  rest  of  his  days  in 
prison. 


CONCLUSION.  341 

But  William  seems  still  to  have  had  a  soft  place  in 
his  heart  for  the  son  of  his  old  friend,  and  sent  him 
one  Easter,  according  to  the  custom  of  the  Norman 
court,  a  complete  suit  of  precious  stuffs,  a  silk  tunic 
and  mantle,  and  a  close  coat  trimmed  with  foreign 
furs. 

But  Roger  was  full  of  pride  and  bitterness,  and  he 
took  the  rich  present  and  threw  it  on  the  fire. 

When  William  heard  how  his  gift  had  been  received, 
he  flew  into  a  mighty  rage. 

'  The  man  is  too  proud  who  does  such  scorn  to  me,' 
he  cried.  '  He  shall  never  come  out  of  my  prison  in  my 
days,  par  le  splendeur  Dex ! ' 

Nor  did  he  ;  neither  in  the  days  of  William  Rufus. 
He  died  in  prison.  ]kit,  in  the  reign  of  Hcnr\-  I., 
his  two  sons  won  back  a  portion  of  their  father's 
possessions. 

The  lesser  accomplices  of  the  three  great  earls  fared 
even  worse. 

At  the  council  before  mentioned,  '  Man  foredoomed 
all  the  l^-etons  that  were  at  the  bride-ale  at  Norowic, 
some  were  blinded,  some  were  driven  from  the  land,  and 
some  were  put  to  shame.  So  were  the  king's  traitors 
brought  low,'  say  the  chronicles. 

Truly  a  disastrous  bridal  ! 

Yet  the  bride  and  bridegroom,  who  risked  so  much 
for  each  other  and  in\i>l\cd  .so  man)-  in  ruin,  were  the 
most  fortunate  of  those  who  attended  it. 

Though  Ralph  lost  his  English  estates,  he  had  broad 
lands  in  his  mother's  country,  and  lived  with  his  hard- 


342  CONCLUSION. 

won  consort  in  his  castles  of  Guader  and  Montfort.  A 
son  and  a  daughter  were  born  to  them.  The  son 
succeeded  to  his  father's  Breton  possessions,  and  the 
daughter,  whom  one  chronicler  names  Amicia,  another 
Itta,  married  Earl  Robert  of  Leicester,  and  became  a 
great  English  lady. 

A  little  over  twenty  years  had  Emma  and  Ralph 
lived  together,  the  stream  of  their  true  love  having 
found  peaceful  channel  after  the  rapids  and  whirl- 
pools that  followed  on  the  first  joining  of  their 
courses  twain  in  one.  Grey  hairs  had  begun  to 
muster  in  Ralph's  dark  locks,  though  his  sturdy 
figure  was  as  strong  and  active  as  ever  and  his  hawk 
eyes  as  keen  ;  motherhood  had  softened  the  high- 
spirited  Emma,  and  had  brought  soft  dimples  into  her 
cheeks  and  a  lovelight  to  her  brow.  Happy  in  her 
home,  she  did  not  give  much  heed  to  the  signs  of  the 
times,  or  note  the  strong  new  spirit  that  was  stirring  in 
the  air. 

Tut  one  day  De  Guader  came  into  her  bower  in  full 
harness,  wearing  helm  and  hauberk,  with  his  great  two- 
handed  sword  by  his  side. 

He  came  up  to  her,  and  stood  before  her,  and  looked 
in  her  face,  and  took  her  soft  mother's  hand  between  his 
two  big  palms. 

'  See'st  thou  ?  '  he  asked,  and  he  guided  her  eyes  with 
his  own  towards  his  arm,  whereon  was  bound  the  cross 
of  the  Crusaders. 

'  Ah,  Ralph  ! '  she  cried,  '  not  thou  ! ' 

'  Sweet,'  he  said  gently,  '  When   I   lay  on  the  field  of 


De  Guader  dona  the  Cross. 


CONCLUSION. 


343 


my  greatest  fight,  in  sore  distress  and  despair,  with  the 
choughs  and  ravens  waiting  to  feed  on  mine  eyes,  and 
the  thought  of  thee  as  of  one  I  should  never  see  a^ain 
till  the  sounding  of  the  last  trump,  I  vowed  that  if  life 
were  spared  me,  I  would  one  day  make  pilgrimage  to 
the  Holy  Sepulchre.  Now  the  time  has  come,  my  lady. 
Life  has  given  me  more  than  I  had  dared  to  hope  for, 
but  it  is  passing ;  we  are  no  longer  young,  you  and  I, 
old  wife!  Let  mc  join  the  men  who  have  responded 
to  Pope  Urban's  call.  Robert  Curthose  is  moving. 
I  will  put  my  hands  between  his  and  be  his  man, 
and  march  under  his  banner  to  join  Godfrey  dc 
Bouillon.' 

'Whom  all  men  honour!'  said  Emma  under  her 
breath. 

*  Wilt  thou  give  mc  thy  blessing  and  thy  leave,  my 
lady?' 

'  Thou  art  sudden  !  Let  me  be  alone  and  think,'  said 
Emma  ;  and  she  left  him  for  a  space.  When  she  came 
back  to  him,  her  face  was  very  pale,  but  she  met  his 
eyes  with  a  steady  smile,  and,  in  turn,  guided  them  to 
her  arm,  on  which  was  bound  the  cross  of  the  Crusaders. 
'  Wilt  thou  give  me  thy  blessing  and  thy  leave,  m)' 
knight  ? '  she  asked. 

Then  Ralph  caught  her  in  his  arms  and  kissed 
her,  as  if  tiie  fatal  bride-ale  had  been  but  the  da)- 
before. 

So  it  came  to  pass  that  Ral[)h  de  Guader,  witii  many 
of  his  vassals,  joined  the  standard  of  the  Duke  of 
Normandy,  and   took    his    lady  with  him.     With   them 


344  CONCLUSION. 

went  also  Eadgyth  of  Norwich,  faithful  in  all  things, 
and  unmarried  still,  having  met  no  champion  who 
could  compass  that  in  which  her  kinsman  Leofric 
Ealdredsson  had  failed  ;  her  fair  face  still  winsome,  with 
its  frame  of  soft  yellow  hair,  and  her  blue  eyes  pathetic 
and  serious. 

In  August  1096,  De  Guader  led  his  knights  to  swell 
the  great  army  of  Crusaders  then  assembling  on  the 
banks  of  the  Moselle,  with  Godfrey  de  Bouillon  at  its 
head,  that  '  very  parfit  gentil  knight '  and  mirror  of 
chivalry,  whom  all  historians  agree  to  praise,  not  only 
for  spotless  morals  and  untarnished  honour  and  the 
high  ideal  he  upheld  before  the  face  of  the  world,  but 
for  the  'consummate  skill  and  patient  perseverance, 
self-possession  and  presence  of  mind,'  by  which  alone 
such  a  host  of  turbulent  and  independent  chiefs  as 
that  which  he  commanded  could  have  been  led  to 
victory. 

As  De  Guader  and  his  lady  rode  into  the  great  camp 
beside  the  blue  Moselle,  a  knight  came  forward  to 
conduct  them  to  the  quarters  which  had  been  assigned 
to  them.  He  had  a  worn  ascetic  face,  seamed  with  scars 
and  lighted  by  the  large  sombre  eyes  of  a  dreamer  of 
day-dreams,  his  spare  figure  witnessing  to  a  life  of  hard 
service  and  activity. 

He  met  De  Guader's  lady  with  a  sweet  smile  of 
reverence  and  recognition  ;  but  when  he  saw  her  com- 
panion, Eadgyth  of  Norwich,  a  flush  passed  over  his 
bronzed  cheeks  and  up  into  his  forehead  as  far  as  it 
could  be  seen  under  his  helm. 


CONCLUSION.     '  345 

'  Sir  Aimand  dc  Sourdeval ! '  cried  Emma,  with  a 
quick  movement  of  delight.  '  Welcome  the  sight  of  thy 
brave,  true  face  amidst  this  host  of  God.'  Then  she 
called  back  her  husband,  that  he  might  pardon  and  be 
pardoned  for  what  had  happened  in  the  old,  sad  days, 
and  Ralph  did  so  with  the  free,  candid  generosity  of 
the  times,  which  were  saturated  with  the  spirit  we  strive 
to  keep  alive  in  our  public  schools  to  this  day — free 
fight  and  no  malice  borne. 

Sir  Aimand  was  one  of  Messire  Godfrey's  most 
trusted  knights,  whom  the  commander  held  in  close 
attendance  on  his  person  ;  heart  and  soul  in  the  Holy 
War,  full  of  joy  that  so  great  a  thing  was  going 
forward. 

'  You  leave  not  wife  or  child  by  a  lone  hearthstone, 
Sir  Knight?'  asked  Kmma,  feeling  sure  that  the  answer 
would  be  '  Nay.' 

And  '  Nay '  it  was.  '  The  lady  of  m)-  choice  would 
not  have  me,  noble  dame,'  he  answered  in  a  low  voice, 
scarcely  daring  to  look  at  Eadgyth  ;  '  a  leal  knight  loves 
not  twice.' 

*  But  she  will  have  thee  now,'  said  Emma,  and,  taking 
Eadgyth's  hand,  she  laid  it  in  hi.s.  Nor  did  ICadgyth 
withdraw  it. 

Before  the  host  of  the  Crusaders  had  moved  from  the 
Moselle,  the  Norman  and  the  Saxon  had  vowed  to  be 
one. 

Did  they  see  the  Ilol)-  Gil}'  together  with  the  eyes 
of  the  flesh?  Did  De  Guader  and  his  faithful  con.sort 
see    it?     History    answers    not:    it    tells    us    only    that 


346  CONCLUSION. 

Ralph     and    Emma    died    together    somewhere    near 
Jerusalem. 

Whatever  their  faults,  whatever  their  sins,  at  least 
they  were  true  to  each  other,  and  died  fulfilling  what  the 
judgment  of  the  time  esteemed  the  holiest  of  duties. 


APPENDIX. 


Note  A.    The  Marriage  of  Ralph  de  Guader. 

The  bridal  of  Ralph  dc  Guader  to  Emma  Fitzosbem  is  very 
fully  described  by  the  chroniclers,  and  1  liave  endeavoured  to 
keep  as  closely  as  possible  to  history.  Ikit  thouyh  I  ha\c  searched 
at  least  half-a-score  authorities,  ancient  and  modern,  every  one 
of  whom  states  that  many  abbots  and  bishops  were  amonj(  the 
company,  in  no  case  is  the  name  of  any  ecclesiastic  recorded.  I 
have  therefore  taken  a  liberty  with  the  Abbot  of  St.  Alljans,  of 
whom  Freeman  says  :  '  All  tliat  certain  histor)-  has  to  say  about 
Frithric  is,  that  he  was  Abbot  of  St.  Albans,  and  that  he  died  or 
was  deposed  some  time  Ijetween  1075  -'"'^  1077.'  These  dates 
would  make  it  not  impossible  that  he  attended  the  bridal,  and 
tradition  represents  him  as  a  very  active  worker  in  the  patriotic 
cause  of  the  Saxon  Church,  and  the  untiring  ojiponent  of  Lanfranc. 

Note  H.     Norwich  Castle. 

Harrod,  Casi/es  and  Com'cnis,  \>.  145.  Some  later  arclKvrologists 
are  of  opinion  that  the  castle  built  by  William  the  Conqueror  was 
so  injured  in  the  siege  that  it  had  to  be  rebuilt,  and  the  chronicler, 
Henry  de  Knyghton,  under  date  iioo,  ascribes  its  erection  to 
William  Rufus.  All  agree  that  a  line  Norman  castle  was  built  on 
the  old  Saxon  earthworks  by  the  Conqueror,  though  they  difter 
as  to  whether  the  existing  keep  is  the  one  then  erected. 

347 


348  APPENDIX. 

Note  C.     De  Guader's  Defeat. 

It  is  to  be  remarked  that  none  of  the  chroniclers,  Norman 
or  Enghsh,  say  anything  of  this  encounter  of  Odo  and  Ralph. 
Nor  do  they  notice  Ralph's  wound.  What  they  do  say  is  that 
De  Guader  was  defeated  at  a  place  called  Fagaduna.  Lingard 
suggests  that  this  name  is  probably  a  translation  of  Beacham,  in 
Norfolk,  and  the  theory  is  rendered  more  probable  by  the  fact  that 
Beachamwell  St.  Mary  was  anciently  divided  into  two  parishes, 
Beacham  and  Welle.  But  eight  miles  from  this  is  the  village 
of  Fouldon,  which  name,  according  to  Blomefield,  is  a  corruption 
of  its  old  Saxon  cognomen.  '  At  the  Great  Survey,  this  town  occurs 
by  the  name  of  Fulgaduna,  Fulendon  and  Phuldon,  and  takes  its 
name  from  the  plenty  of  wild  fowl  which  frequented  it,  it  being 
seated  in  the  midst  of  fens  and  morasses.  Fiigol,  in  Saxon,  signifies 
wild  fowl,  and  in  some  antique  writings  'tis  wrote  Fugeldune.' 
What  a  slight  misunderstanding  of  a  strange  name,  or  slip  of  the 
pen,  might  change  this  word  into  Fagaduna  I 

Note  D.     De  Guader  and  Waltheof. 

The  chroniclers  called  Ralph's  emljarkation  from  Norwich  a 
flight  ;  while  modern  historians  accuse  the  stout  earl  of  not  daring 
to  stand  the  siege  in  his  own  person,  and  of  leaving  the  bride  for 
whom  he  had  risked  so  much  to  sustain  dangers  he  feared  to  face. 

Ralph  was  unfortunate  in  offending  all  parties.  Chroniclers  of 
Norman  sympathies  hated  him  for  his  rebellion  against  William  ; 
Saxons  for  fighting  against  his  people  at  Senlac  :  neither  had  any 
motive  to  say  a  good  word  for  him,  while  they  canonized  Waltheof 
as  a  saint,  ^ — Waltheof,  who  surely  earned  the  name  of  traitor 
as  richly  as  ever  did  Ralph,  since  he  entered  in  the  conspiracy 
against  William,  after  having  voluntarily  accepted  the  hand  of 
the  Conqueror's  niece  in  marriage,  and  binding  himself  under  a 
solemn  form  of  fealty  ;  then,  to  shield  himself,  acted  the  ever- 
hateful  part  of  an  informer. 


APPENDIX.  349 

Hugh  and  Roger  Bigod,  Ralph's  successors  in  the  earldom  of 
Norfolk,  are  spoken  of  as  worthy  bearers  of  the  title.  Yet  Hugh 
rebelled,  first  against  King  Stephen,  and  afterwards  against  Henry 
II.  ;  and  Roger  wrested  a  charter  from  Richard  I.,  in  which  the 
inhabitants  of  Norwich  were  first  recognised  as  citizens,  and  after- 
wards joined  the  barons  against  King  John,  being  one  of  the  fore- 
most of  those  who  forced  him  to  sign  Magna  Charta.  It  may  be 
said  that  the  treasons  of  the  Bigods  were  justified  by  their  ends,  to 
obtain  liberty  for  the  people  ;  but  it  must  not  be  forgotten  that 
Ralph  de  Guader  alleged  as  his  motive  the  intolerable  oppression 
of  the  Saxons  under  the  rdgiiite  of  William's  subordinates. 

Victor  Hugo,  writing  of  the  good  service  done  to  English  liberty 
by  the  jealous  watch  kept  by  the  barons  on  the  crown,  and  by 
their  determined  resistance  of  all  royal  encroachments,  says  :  '  Des 
1075  Ics  barons  sc  font  sentir  au  roi.  Et  h  quel  roi  !  A  Guiliaume 
le  Conquerant  !'  The  date  thus  given  is  that  of  the  rebellion  of  I)c 
Guader  and  Hereford. 

Note  E.    The  Sieoe  of  Norwich  Casti.e. 

All  that  certain  history  has  to  tell  of  this  siege  of  Norwich  Castle, 
is  that  De  Guader  left  it  in  the  hands  of  his  countess  and  knights, 
the  names  of  the  latter  not  being  given  ;  that  they  were  attacked 
by  the  king's  forces  under  the  leaders  named  in  the  te.vt,  armed 
with  all  the  mechanical  inventions  of  the  day  ;  that  the  countess 
lu'id  it  fill  three  months,  and  gave  it  up  on  the  terms  related 
through  lack  of  provisions  ;  and  that  she  lejoined  her  husband 
in  Brittany.  W'liy  he  had  not  appeared  to  relieve  his  castle  is  not 
recorded. 

These  details  may  be  found  in  ( )rderic  \'italis,  Matthew  Paris, 
Florence  of  Worcester,  the  Chronicles  of  Worcester  and  Peter- 
borough, and  in  all  modern  historians  ulin  deal  with  the  period, 
perhaps  the  best  account  being  that  of  Krecman  in  the  fourth 
volume  of  his  Norman  Conquest^  a  work  abounding  in  interest 
and  spirited  description. 


MORRISON    AND   GIBB,    PRINTERS,    EDINBURGH. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  /-A F  wr^.. - -_ 

University  of  California 

SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 

305  De  Neve  Drive  -  Parking  Lot  17  •  Box  951388 

LOS  ANGELES,  CALIFORNIA  90095-1388 

Return  this  material  to  the  library  from  which  it  was  borrowed. 


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